The cold driving rain hammered down like the floodgates of heaven had opened, and the rumbling of thunder and the wrathful crack of thunder and as if displaying the wrath of the gods to the puny humans and other mortal creatures that dwelled below.
In the almost endless pine forests that ran from the great mountain ranges that separated the desolate hinterlands that lay beyond them, from the more civilized and settled lands of Kels, a lone figure sat perched upon his horse as he guided the stallion as best he could down the muddy forest road. Every now and then he would glance back as if expecting to see some shadowy figure stalking him. But no such thing materialized and the lone man and his horse drove on.
He was soaked to the bone and almost half dead from exhaustion but he could not stop, no he had to press on. Rest he would do when he reached the small hamlet that he knew lay across the next river, there he could seek shelter and take stock of what he had seen amongst the lonely mountain crags and supposedly abandoned ruins of a once mighty citadel.
He was sinewy and fairly tall, his dark hair and swarthy skin tone spoke of what blood flowed in his veins beside that of a Kelsman. That added to his sullen tone and demeanor revealed that he was in fact of Pictish origin too. His cloths where made of wool and fur and his feet where clad in sturdy leather booths, while a cloak made of thick sheep wool gave him a appearance of a homesteader, or perhaps a trapper. But the longbow and half empty quiver and his long sword plus the scale mail he wore suggested otherwise.
His horse was like its rider a somewhat wild and untamed creature of the wilds, it was not like the proud war horses that knights rode, or the elegant horses nobles rode upon. No this was a beast that had been born and breed by the Picts that dwelled in these lands. Therefor it suited its rider perfectly.
This rugged man whom had seen his fair share of hardship and bloodshed, now found himself cursing his rotten lot in life that had seen him sent into the desolate mountain ranges, and otherwise uninviting lands that once had been a thriving and wealthy part of Kels. Until the flames of civil war and madness had consumed it, along with the gods knew how many lives. Remembering those dark days he suppressed a shiver.
He recalled climbing those dark and unwelcoming mountain ranges, and the eerily silent woods that had slowly given way to ruins and traces of the battels fought there in that dark chapter of history.
Not being one to fear man or beast, he had still felt a cold dread seep into him as he explored those now uninhabited tracts of land.
And now he found himself looking at the roaring river that separated him from the relative safety of the hamlet, and the wilds that lay behind him. Even if a rather unpleasant crossing lay ahead of him, Brage now allowed himself to relax and dismount his equally weary horse that need to rest just as much as he did. He looked at the quickly darkening skies and the roaring waters that lay ahead of him.
Gripping the reins in his left hand he began to make his way down to the river, with his horse following him with its shaggy head hung low.
The water was icy and made him curse the gods, the rain and the whole miserable world in general as he fought to keep his balance. But he was accustomed to crossing rivers like this, so after much discomfort and now absolutely ice cold to his beating hearth he took comfort in that he would before sundown be behind thick walls, and hopefully with a mug of beer in hand.
“Curse this damnable weather” he muttered as he remounted his horse and tried to blow some life back into his numb hands.
Fishing a strip of tried and very salty meat out from the now all but empty saddle bag he began to chew as he looked for any signs of life in the empty fields and copses of trees that dotted the landscape alongside the road. But there was noting except the wet and rather miserable forms of the feral looking cattle that the settlers along Thunder river kept.
Their long shaggy coat of wool kept the rain out, while their foul temperament and long sharp horn kept wolves, bears and would be cattle thief’s at bay for the most part.
“ At least I don’t stink like a barn yard” he said and grinned while looking at the cattle that stood and followed him with their beady eyes as he rode past the pasture.
His moment of amusement was shattered when the low growl of a cattle dog could be heard from up ahead.
He looked up and half expected to see a scrawny youth gripping a spear or bow looking him over, alongside his trusty hound. But no such youth materialized, but the dog however did.
The dog was a massive brute, its thick fur black as coal and its cold eyes that seemed to issue a challenge to anyone whom dared cross its path. But there was something about the hound that made Brage look twice, it was breathing hard and its spiked collar had tufts of hair on it. And its yellow teeth where stained with blood.
Clearly the brute had run into something that now most likely was either dead or where running hard for its life.
He looked around to see if its owner was anywhere to be seen, but he could not see anyone nor did it seem like the beast was waiting for anyone, it looked more like it was simply catching it breath before resuming the hunt or returning home.
Steering his horse past the hound while keeping one eye on it, just to be on the safe side the bone weary man pressed on along the muddy road.
Some time after wards he came over a gentle hill, and laid eyes on the place he would rest for the night, before him lay a small and rather forgettable hamlet, it was a cluster of wooden houses. Built with whole logs of sturdy pine and oak, and the roofs covered in peat.
Smoke drifted up on the now increasingly biting cold wind and brought with it the smells of cooking, warm bodies and other homely aromas. As he rode down he could see a few of the houses had light streaming out from the small windows. So clearly there where folk awake and about, witch meant a bone weary traveler and his weary horse could find shelter from the storm that was hot on his heels.

As he rode into the courtyard of one of the largest houses, and dismounted he was greeted by a tired looking man that emerged from the stable, and looked him over. The man seemed more interested in returning to his slumber.
“Greetings man, do you have room in your stable for a weary horse and rider?” Brage said and stood there in the driving rain waiting for a response.
“Aye laddie I got that, but may I suggest that you head indoors for a warm meal?”
“Sounds like a good idea, how much for a bed and food? Noting to expensive I hope.”
“No a few coins should go a long way, we don’t get overrun with folks this time of year” the man said and yawned as he lead the horse into the stable.
Walking across the muddy yard and opening the door that lead into the warmth of the inn, and the long awaited company of other people, and the sounds of people talking.
But he realized that he would be all but alone here too, for inside there where just a few patrons, a lone serving girl that also seemed to staff the bar alongside taking orders from customers, be they hungry or thirsty.
The other guests where a mixture of farmers, a few traveling merchants whom seemed weary to the bone and tired of the daily struggle and a few other men that had the look of woodsmen about them.
Walking up to the counter he fished out his coin purse from under his scale mail.
“A stein of beer and some hot food if you got any and a room miss” he said and placed five large silver coins on the counter.
The girl whom was a rather chubby one smiled and said hello, and took his coins before pulling a solid looking beer stein down from a shelf and tapped beer into it. The beer was dark as earth and smelled faintly of herbs and a hint of honey.
“ Today’s dinner is fish stew and potatoes alongside bread and butter darling” she said and promised to bring him the food as soon as possible.
As Brage sat down with beer in hand on a solid oak chair, with his feet resting on another one he cursed himself for loosing his pipe weeks ago. He could have murdered for a good pipe now to calm his tired senses down.
The food arrived, heaped high on clay plates, and he found himself grinning from ear to ear. The food smelled divine to him after weeks of eating noting but dried meat and what else he could find in the gloomy woodlands he had traveled in.
Eating like a starved wolf he dug in and used the loafs of bread as cutlery to shovel the hot food into his mouth in between taking deep gulps of beer to wash it all down.
When the plate was licked clean and his mug empty the lean woodsman sank back into his chair and pulled a deep breath of satisfaction.
He wiped his mouth and signaled for a new mug of beer, and decided that would be his last one. No need to get hammered on the strong ale, when he was so damned tired. He could already feel the warm spreading trough his body and his strength slowly returning to him after the large serving of home made food.
As he sat there in silent contemplation and tended to his gear, lost in his own mind someone interrupted his silent moment of relaxation.
Olav whom was a good and pleasant enough fellow did however, despite his rather polite inquiry received a cold stare from a pair of eyes that viewed the world with suspicion, and the man with swarthy skin and dark hair seemed to take a measure of him, before answering him with a low voice.
“Pardon me good man, but you don’t look like a local. May I ask where you come from? I only ask out of curiosity, we rarely see folks that don’t live around here when autumn is around the corner.”
the speaker was a man of average height and build, with hair the color of copper.
“ No I am definitely not a farmer, cows seems to dislike me for some reason. And I come from across Thunder river, crossed it today for the first time in months. Been wandering the wilds I suppose one could say.”
“ Did you say you came across the river? By the gods man! What drove you across the river in the first place?”
Realizing that subtly was perhaps the best way to ask a complete stranger what he did across the Thunder river the man changed his tone.
“ Where you hunting? Or tracking some outlaws? I don’t mean to pry into your affairs but still. Indulge a bored peasant will you?” he finished and pulled out a chair from a nearby table and sat down, as he did so he also called to the barmaid for a new stein of beer for himself.
“Oh and where is my manners, my name is Olav.”

“Good evening then Olav, I’m Brage of the border marches. As for what I was doing beyond Thunder river, well I consider that personal and, therefor as you surely understand I wont share it. Now I can tell by the conversation you had with your fellow villagers that you are merely here to see if I am a source of potential trouble, so rest assured. I am not.” Brage finished and took a long sip from his second stein of beer and looking Olav in the eyes.
“I see well pardon then, no offense intended. And I was actually more interested in just general conversation but I do get your point, I wont ask about a mans personal affairs anyhow.”
No need to apologize, I have been devoid of company for some time. That and being weary to the bone helps to make a man a bit edgy.” the newcomer said and set down his stein.
“Did you happen to see any Picts by the way, our community has few eyes and ears to warn us about any potential trouble brewing. And we have a standing policy to pay for any helpful news, either in coin or in supplies” Olav said, clearly unphased by the rather blunt answer he had gotten from the man across the table. It dawned on Brage that these men where not soft nor helpless but they still had a sense of honor, witch appealed to him.
“No I saw no signs of the Picts anywhere near the river, I only saw a few totems as far as signs of there ever having been picts there. But I did meet however a massive brute of a cattle dog near the fields that is closest to the river. Evil looking thing”
At the mention of the dog and hearing its description and where Brage had meet the beast, Olav became visibly pale. As if someone had drained the blood from his face and replaced it with ice water.
“This dog.... Did it happen to have a spiked collar? What where its behavior like?”

Sensing something was clearly not as it should be, Brage tensed his body out of habit, and maybe his Pictish blood did it for him. He knew a mere stray dog would not make a man that lived near Thunder river, and the wilds that lay beyond it loose his nerves.
“Aye it had a collar on it, leather and studded with cruel looking spikes. As for how it behaved, well it merely barred my path for a moment before I rode past the thing. I kept expecting a sheepherder or someone watching over the cattle to call the thing but no one did do that.” the woodsman finished
“ Tell me Olav what is it about a mere stay cattle dog that makes you look, as you have seen a saber tooth cat. Something tells me that you have problems, of the dark and foul kind.”
To these words the aging man simply nodded and said in a sudden almost exhausted sounding tone.
“What do you know about the witch doctors of the Picts, and their dark arts man?”
At this mention of his somewhat distant yet close blood relatives Brage bristled, and his hands sough his weapons out of pure instinct. His Pictish father had loathed the heinous rituals and practices of the witch doctors of the other tribes. And had spent no small amount of time and effort in learning his own son how to best deal with these nefarious mad men.
“ I know more than I would like to know, you mean to tell me that there is one of those zealots running wild in these parts of the woods.” the woodsman said in a dark tone as his demeanor changed from mellow and somewhat relaxed to a far more
primeval state. His eyes narrowed and seemed to bore into Olav whom felt the whole transformation rather unpleasant.
“ Aye.... We are not unfamiliar with the odd raiding party or even lone Picts stealing across the river to steal our cattle or try to drive us from our homes. So that is why as you rode into town, you where watched by several hidden archers.”
taking a moment to drain his mug and wipe the foam from his beard he continued.
“ Of course you are not a blood crazed savage so they did not loose their arrows. But its a sad day when we have to have a permanent watch set up to keep those dogs away. However the last weeks had been... eerily different from anything I have ever experienced in all my years living here.”
“What exactly changed?” Brage said as he sat reclined in his chair. Toying idly with his hunting knife as he listened to the story.
“ Where to start, well first our life stock started to get picked of by some unseen predator, we lost some sixty sheep a half a dozen cattle alongside a good number of cattle dogs. All in the space of a few weeks, now this close to the wilds beyond Thunder river we are used to strange beasts coming and going. But this... it was unlike anything we had ever seen or let alone hunted.”
Calling for a third beer Olav turned back to his conversation partner with a haunted look now on his face plain for all to see.
“ Myself and about a score of other men plus hunting dogs tracked the beast, after it had killed a ox just north of here. We expected it to be a kraite or a bear, but no. the beast was something far, far worse.”
“Something worse than a blood crazed bear, or a kraite. What could be worse than that?”

“ Aye we picked up the trail some distance from the fields to the north, it was rather easy to follow as the ground was muddy and wet from days of rain. It lead us towards the dense woodlands that border the lands that belong to this hamlet. As we made ready to began the last leg of our hunt, and the men and myself readied our weapons, the beast made itself known with a roar that made my blood freeze, and it drove the dogs mad too. They bolted like stung with hot iron.”

Good to see another one of your fantasy offerings again, Trondheim! I liked the leisurely pace of the opening - some nice vivid desciptions in there ... quite evocative.

I was also pleased to see a village where the inhabitants seem competent and capable of looking after themselves!

Bring on the big gribbly beast ...

 Necroagogo wrote:
Good to see another one of your fantasy offerings again, Trondheim! I liked the leisurely pace of the opening - some nice vivid desciptions in there ... quite evocative.

I was also pleased to see a village where the inhabitants seem competent and capable of looking after themselves!

Bring on the big gribbly beast ...

Well it felt as a good change of sugject really, good to take a break from all the grim darkness.

And yes, the big beastie will be comming along shortly

“So I assume you pressed on without dogs? Or did they come to heel?”
“All of them keeping on running, no matter how much we called. So we went on without them, in hindsight we should have done as them and fled while we still had the chance to do so.”
the next batch of memories clearly caused the man a good deal of anguish, and Brage did not press the issue either, for he sensed what would be the likely conclusion to all this doom & gloom.
“ So we entered the woods, and spread out. Each man a good ten meters from the next, with bow or spear ready. We walked for a good amount of time, but we walked as if on needles, the very woodland was as if devoid of life. No bird sang nor did any beast stir, not until our prey saw fit to reveal itself as we reached a small glade. “
“Its thunder like growl made myself and the others whom where with me, grip our weapons and feel a shiver of ice worm its way into our bodies. Then as a evil spirit emerging from the darkness of the night it came. Its body was the size of a fully grown farm horse, its body was covered in a dark brown fur that where both thick and very coarse, almost the hide of a boar, its great paws ended in curled talons stained by dirt and the blood of our livestock, its immense maw filled with yellow gruesome looking teeth and a long pink tongue that hung out, while its breath joined the morning mist. But its eyes.... Oh how those ruby red orbs burnt with savage cruelty and blood lust.”
Seemingly physically ill by retelling his horrid experience Olav seemed on the verge of vomiting, or gasping for air, his face now the same color as a dead man and his hands gripping the beer mug as if afraid t would drift of he continued.
“ I don’t remember whom shot first, but a arrow struck it squarely in the chest, but the bite of steel seemingly only enraged the beast. It came like a landslide of violence, and barreled into us tooth and claw leading the way. It gutted a man with its paw before leaping like a leopard onto the next. Burying him under its immense weight, as it did we others tried to strike it down. But it seemed like it was gifted with the ability to predict our moves, or maybe it was because we all where scared and almost panicked by this.... abomination that had killed two of our comrades so fast. So needless to say, things went grimly, I awoke alone and grievously wounded. The beast had struck me, but my mail shirt had saved me from the worst, but still it gave me a nasty wound. One that almost killed me.” the man finished, and as if expecting to be meet with skepticism folded up his thick wool shirt, and pointed to a still bandaged and very unpleasant looking wound that ran from below his collar bone and down towards his belly.

“You need not tell me more man, I believe you. “ said Brage and felt himself both horrified and yet curious about this beast, the creature that had slain almost a dozen men. Whom all had been used to using them, both against man and beast. It clearly was something from a dark nightmare taken physical form.
“But I have one question though” he said and looked Olav in the eyes and pulling out his coin purse, willing to part with his remaing coins if need be.
“Do you have any idea what the thing was? “
His conversation partner looked somewhat provoked by the request, but he held any bitter reply.
The answer he seeked came not from Olav, but one of his fellow patrons. Whom by the look of his cloths and physically state had spent much time in wilds.
“Aye man, what killed those poor souls and almost gutted Olav was no mere blood crazed beast. I have seen its kind once before, although that one was dead as a door nail. It had run afoul with a pack of kraits. But before they offed it, the damned thing killed half of their numbers. What he saw that day was one of the great apes that stalk the woods and foothill across the river. The damned savages there worship them. Hell they are even rumored to sacrifice captives to those damned things.” the man finished before spitting in disgust on the floor under his feet.
“You mean to tell me that a monkey is the source of all your grief?” Brage said and raised an eyebrow in somewhat disbelief. He had never seen, let alone heard about any such creature. But then again, who knew what lurked in the wilds beyond the river he himself had crossed not long ago.

“Aye but they are not like the monkeys of the south lands, these devils can walk like a man if need be. And they dwarf even the tallest man, and they have a bestial cunning that rivals anything I have ever seen before. That and their taste for man flesh.” the man said as he sat down and pulled out his pipe, witch he stuffed and lit.
Brage did not answer him, instead he nodded and took stock of all this. If there was indeed a beast like that lurking around the hamlet he knew he could not ride on, the beast would likely lay in ambush along the single road that lead away from this place.
“Hmm so I take it that you have not hunted the beast after that dreadful day? “
When his question was meet only with hard glares and a deathly silence he knew the answer to that at least. The people of this place had developed a fear of the dark woods, and wished not to loose more of their kin and friends to its hungry maw. That much he could understand and respect.
Deciding he needed to sleep and rest, the traveler rose from his seat and payed for his meal and drink. Offered a respectful nod to Olav and payed for his drinks while he was at the counter, and told the bar maid to give the man what he wanted, leaving behind a single large and very heavy golden ring as payment the half Pict wandered up the stairs and left the common room behind.
Meanwhile the night dragged on, and the village folk slept behind their barred doors, and a dozing half Pict slept with one hand on his sword hilt, someone else was wide awake and busy with their own tasks at hand.

In the darkness of the silent woodlands where now only the night creatures stirred, a lone pale figure walked across the mossy forest floor. Her features where as cast from ivory and her hair hung loose around her, almost as if acted as her clothing. But any man foolish enough to linger near her would see that she wore finely spun silk like cloths, that clung to her ample figure.
Her gossamer like cloths, while numerous silver ornaments decorated her fingers and hair. Pausing under a massive pine tree the woman cast a long and hawkish gaze around her as if expecting company of foes, or perhaps friends.
When she had settled down and sat with feet crossed and her great mane of dark red hair enveloping her and acting as a thin cloak, Time passed and the stars glared bright above her.
Speaking to no one or perhaps a unseen listener that lurked somewhere in the woods, watching her near naked form. Perhaps with lust pulsing trough that individual body and mind.
Her body although beautiful was also marred with numerous gruesome scars, that bore testament to the things she must have survived in times past. She was breathing heavily as she paused beneath a massive oak tree that stood silently watch in the darkness of the night. One hand went to the simple yet beautiful pendant that rested between her breasts.
“Curse you, curse you all!” the woman spat as she sank down onto the wet moss, that soaked her and made her thin cloths damp. Her angry outbursts was followed by a deep breath and a slow shake of her head and a few tears dropped from her face and down onto her chest.
This outburst of emotion was replaced with the mask of cold seething hate that normally sat on her beautiful face, once more she became the eerie creature of the night that the tribes of the woodlands feared and hated. The one that they vowed to tie to the totem and exact their gruesome revenge upon the gods be willing, but so far their efforts had failed and only been rewarded with death and other far worse fates.
Her eyes now glimmered with a inhuman glare and as the symphony of the dark night carried on she drifted ever onwards into the woodland, a savage grin forming and parting her lips to reveal sharp predatory teeth.

Brage woke just before dawn broke, and walked down into the common room intending to purchase rations and other supplies before he left this dreary place behind him. His body felt renewed by sleep, and the fact that he had slept under a roof and away from the elements for once.
He was surprised to find it devoid of anyone, not even the serving girl or the inn keeper was to be seen. That and the fact that the room was not illuminated at all made him suspicions, and he did not like that particular feeling.
Drawing his blade he took one cautious step forwards and called out “ Anyone here?”, his question was meet with noting but silence and once more he called out but received no answer this time either. As he made for the door his foot struck something soft laying on the floor before him, kneeling down to investigate he almost immediately realized what the object was. It was a life less body of a man, and the fact that his hands came away bloody told him that something was indeed wrong, very wrong.
Cursing silently to himself he crept forwards, silent as a jungle cat towards the door and put one hand firmly on the door handle, and pulled it open cautiously.
Peering out he saw what he suspected, for there in the courtyard several white painted men clad in noting but loose fur trousers stood with bloody weapons in hand. Before them lay several townsfolk, tied firmly with ropes and gagged with strips of cloth showed into their mouths to keep them quiet.
Brage knew these pale devils all too well, for they where the tribal warriors of the white wolf tribe that had sworn allegiance to that devil of a witch doctor, that had managed to unite the tribes to the north. And now clearly had dared to come down south to spread they mayhem.
He also knew what fate awaited those poor devils that lay hog tied on the ground, the distant gleaming light of a fire also told him that at least one house was burning.
Dropping his heavy wool cloak he took a deep breath and stepped out of the door, with blade in hand and called out to the Pitchs.
“Ho there you pale worms! Finally grown a pair I see. Daring to kill the unarmed and defenseless! Or are you just still the cowards I know your kind to be!” he finished and grinned devilish to the warriors that had spun on their heels to face him.

One of them yelled something in their own tongue and pointed one bloody stone axe towards the lone sword man that had emerged to fight them.
Not that his fellow warriors needed any goading into battle with the hated men of the west, they yelled in excitement and unholy glee as they swarmed towards him.
But they where not prepared for their welcome at his hands, the long gleaming sword flashed in a serpent like strike, and the razor sharp edge struck one of them in the neck, the blade parting his head from his shoulders and sending it tumbling to the ground.
Then the fight began in earnest, they surrounded him and came at him wildly and without fear for their own life’s.
Brage loathed the Picts with every fiber of his whole body, these fiends could not be reasoned with nor made to see reason. They only understood one thing and that was cold sharp steel.
He had never expected them to be able to slay all the sentries that the villagers had set out in silence, and thus being able to swarm the town without anyone raising the alarm. How they had done it he dared not consider now, for he was too busy avoiding their axes and returning their blows. Dropping low to avoid a lunge from one man he came up and swung his blade in a wide arch, and caught two of his foes unprepared. The sword gutted one man and bit deeply in the leg of the other, a savage fist blow struck his shoulder and made him jerk back. He repayed his assailant by severing the limb and killing the warrior with a back handed slash.
As he barely avoided a axe blow from one of the remaining warriors and twisted to the side to avoid another blow, he was however struck hard in the ribs by a brutal blow from the leader of these woodland devils.
However his scale mail saved him from any serious injury and he repayed the strike with a brutal overhead blow of his own.
The sword struck the man in the head with a sickening crunch and cleaved the shaven skull down to the teeth, blood and gore sprouting as a ghastly fountain of some sort.
His foe pulled the sword free and took one menacing step towards his now remaining foe, for the other Pict had turned and fled when their leader had been struck down.

Brage grinned his teeth like a wolf upon seeing this, kill their strongest man and the rest will turn and run he thought. His foe too seemed to reconsider his chances of fighting this devil with his now gore stained blade.
But before anyone of the two could act, someone else ended the fight for them.
Suddenly the painted warrior began to stagger and blood started to seep from his mouth as he fell face down with a long shafted arrow between his shoulder blades and another logged in his left buttock.
Then the sounds of men running and dogs barking madly could be heard, and Brage caught a glimpse of a small band of Picts running like whipped dogs past the courtyard of the inn.
But they did not get far, for the sharp twang of bow strings and of dogs whom had caught their prey filled his ears.
Then the archers came into view, about two dozen men armed with long bows and spears slick with blood stopped and surveyed the scene in the courtyard before them.
So he was wrong Brage mussed, for these was most likely the sentries that the Picts had slipped by. At least there where some comfort in that he thought, a few less dead men to bury.
He recognized the leader of the men as the man whom had stabled his horse and raised one gore stained hand in a greeting, the man however did not return the favor. He simply nodded to his fellow combatant and trudged after his comrades.
As the dawn gave way to day the people that had survived the raid took stock of the passing night, and began to mourn their dead. Of a population of around three hundred souls all in all, some eighty had been slain and another forty wounded in various forms by their assailants. Five others where missing but presumed dead as the house those five had dwelled in was now a smoking ruin at the edge of town.
The elders of the town shook their heads and mutter under their breath what a abject catastrophe this had been for the town, and how much these damned savages had managed to ruin as they had tried to take the peasants by surprise.
But the men of the woodlands had underestimated one thing, and that was the many dogs that the people they intended to rob and kill kept, and it was their angry barking and vicious nature that had alerted the men that kept arms of their foes.
That added to the keen archery skills of the watch and others, and their steel weapons had also aided their chances. But these things where a slim comfort for those whom had lost loved ones.

Brage knew they would rebuild, new children would be born and slowly the memories of the raid would fade. But he could help shake the feeling of doom that hung over the place, he knew this close to Thunder river no western man was safe from the predations of the devils on the other side.
Therefor he wasted no time in departing the stricken place either, he did not feel too sure that the Picts would return in greater numbers and finish what they had started the previous night.
And he did not intend to end his days as a sun bleached skull outside the hut of some damned savage.

'A landslide of violence'.

That's a really nice turn of phrase - I may have to steal it!

As I said before, it's nice not to see the hero acting in a vacuum - villagers living that close to a hostile neighbour had better be able to take care of themselves, dammit.

Keep it coming, Trondheim!

Feel free to steal, I would only be flatterd if you did. Glad to hear that you enjoyed the story so far, Il try to have a new part in the comming days

As he left the stricken village behind and once more took to the road, Brage steeled his nerves and took a deep breath to steady himself. His skin crawled with unease and it felt plain wrong to take to the roads so soon after the mornings bloodshed, but it could not be helped. He needed to press on and make it to his destination that lay far to the west.
So with one hand resting firmly on the hilt of his sword and the other gripping the reins of his horse firmly he cleared the last hill and the village vanished from sight and sound.
His senses stood on edge as he rode in good speed past the cops of trees and other potential hiding places, and he could swear he felt paranoid. But he knew it payed in the end to be this careful when traveling this god forsaken part of the kingdom.
Too many lives had been lost along these lonely roads and silent woods to bandits, Picts and wild beasts. And he did not intend to join those now dead fools.
Overhead dark clouds brewed and swirled and soon a deafening roar of thunder heralded the coming of yet another rainstorm, cursing the weather and all other things in general that was wrong with the world he pulled his cloak thither around him and prepared himself for another miserable day in the saddle.

While the lone traveler and his horse thundered towards the west, and the civilized realms of the men that dwelled there. Something or someone else was waking up from a deeply unpleasant dream.
Her limbs felt stiff and cold and her mouth tasted like copper mixed with sour blood. Stretching her acing limbs and feeling the dampness of the forest still clinging to her body.
Shuddering with cold and unease the woman with the dark red hair and somewhat unfitting choice of wardrobe looked around herself. Looking around she saw noting but the damp and silent woods and the enormous trees that stood as silent sentries, watching this tiny figure huddling at their feet.
Her thoughts of revenge still burnt bright in her, but they where somewhat dulled by a new feeling that seemed to flow trough her body and fill her cold limbs, and more importantly her hearth.
It was a strange feeling of belonging to these silent lands and having been here long, long ago.
The ritual she had undertaken last must somehow have stirred these unfamiliar feelings that now welled up inside her, but she did not forgot the primeval urge to seek revenge and the blood of those that had wronged her and her loved one in their time of need.
She barley remembered waking up many, many days ago in the gloomy and eery woodlands far from this place, she remembered a day filled with fire, screams and agony. The feeling of despair and the fear to leave the one she had loved behind, and she remembered the hideous face of her foe that had awaited her outside the walls.
With a slow, almost lazy pace she rose to stand to her full height, and became aware that she knew what needed to be done to ease her own sense of unrest and worry. When the moon rose once more, and the stars graced the lands below with their light she would begin her sojourn to the capital of the west.
As the almost naked woman stood there lost in thought, she did not see the several fur clad men painted in white that now stalked trough the undergrowth towards her. Lust burning in their eyes as they gazed at her ample breasts and shapely figure, barely hidden behind the gossamer like cloth that cover her.
But the Picts being creatures of the wild places of the world, could sense what the woman they gazed upon was capable, and therefor stayed their hands. They slipped away unseen and unheard, their fury still burning bright, but they knew better than to strike at someone like the woman they had just seen in the deep woods.
For they where attuned in some strange way to the beating pulse of the lands they dwelled in, and could sense when someone walked the path of the witch, or was marked out by one of their primitive gods form either glory or infamy.
So therefor these white painted wolfs of the woodlands where in many ways far more sophisticated than what the men of the west and the lands to the south east gave them credit for.

As the day began to wain and the wind began to chase away the rolling banks of rain, and fog that had enveloped the lands Brage began to feel himself grow weary. A whole day spent in the saddle left its marks, and he felt the need to stretch his limbs and lay down beside a warming fire.
So as the grey sky hung above him, and the cold wind sang its mournful tune amongst the trees and the gentle rolling hills he looked for a place to rest.
It took some time to find a suitable place, away from the cold draft and sheltered from prying eyes. His resting place was in the shadow of a immense boulder that lay resting in the forest edge, a bow shot or so from the road.
It was clear to him that few men came this way, for the birds paid close attention to him. Unsure if he was a danger to them or nor, and the wild boars he had seen not long ago had stood silent in the meadow, and glared at him with little or no fear for his deadly bow.
With his ample supply of firewood and a adequate bedding of moss and branches he knelt down and took out his fire steel, with practiced ease he struck it and soon he had a fire going, feeding it wood and feeling his body start to relax he listened to the choir of the wild lands and slowly drifted of to sleep.
His dreams where filled with unease and a sense of urgency, and he twisted and turned in his uneasy sleep as he lay beside the now low burning fire.
In the dead of the dark night he awoke, to find his camp fire noting but embers. As he was stoking the flames and adding more wood to it, he sensed someone watching him from the darkness beyond the light of the fire.
Keeping one eye on the darkness beyond the campsite he bent down low and grabbed his bow, and notched one arrow and drew the bowstring back.
“If you don’t wish to be shot where you stand come into the light. Slowly and with arms raised! I will count to four!” he finished and drew back the bowstring and took aim.

No reply came from the darkness, instead the soft sound of paws upon the moss and a looming shape emerged from the darkness, with eyes that fixated him.
He had expected a wander or perhaps a bandit, but not this. Not by a long shot, for the thing that came into view was that hound that had meet him outside the village, the hound glared at his raised bow, almost accusing him for wanting to harm it and promptly sat down on its hind quarter.
A long pink tongue hanging from its mouth as its breath became mist, its fur was dirty and the dog looked less threatening now than the last time they had meet.
The hound let out a low whimper and weakly wagged its tail as if seeking permit to creep closer to the warmth of the camp fire.
“Come on then boy, if you have trailed me for a whole day you deserve to warm your bones too” the man said and looked at the enormous dog that seemed more wild animal than companion of man.
Its spiked collar was missing and so was part of one ear, so clearly the dog had meet some unseen foe since they had last meet.
“Now what drove a beast like you to follow someone like me then? If your hoping for rich spoils I must disappoint you friend, I have but dried meat and other goods. But let it never be said I allowed a guest at my fire to starve.” Brage finished and sat down on the opposite side of the dog and reached for his saddle bag.
He could feel its hungry eyes track his every move and breath, and as he fished out the dried mutton meat and sliced of a solid piece he could see that the dog was drooling, and its massive maw was hanging half open in barely restrained hunger.
Hurling the piece over the fire to the dog, he was not surprised when it reared up on its hind legs and caught it mid flight.
Settling down with its price the animal began to chew and seemed to savor every chew and the sensation of having food once more between its paws.
He sat and watched the dog as it finished its meal of dried mutton, and he could almost imagine it saying to him that he should give him the rest of the damned meat, could he not see hat his guest was hungry still? Laughing softly to himself he did just that. Throwing the large piece of mutton leg that he had intend to last him for a few days, he was rewarded with the sound of breaking bone and a pair of eyes that fixated him as if to say thank you brother.
“Eat up dog, gods know that I hate mutton anyway so its better that you take it.” he muttered and felt safe enough to lean back against the stone behind him, and close his eyes once more.

The human fell asleep once more and the dog whom had not been by its now dead master when it was a puppy sat there, motionless and ears raised. It felt its massive strength returning as the meat rested heavily in its gut, it had followed the man more out of a whim than anything else.
It had no pack members that stilled lived, and master was dead. Killed by the white painted wolfs of the the woods.
The other men of the village had feared the enormous hound, that had reverted to a almost feral existence after the Picts had killed the old forester that had owned the hound.
Prowling the woods and preying upon whatever it could run down it had become a creature to be feared and avoided, although the only men to feel its animalistic rage was the lone Pict scouts that stole across the river to observe the farms and hamlets.
Many of those young men became prey, and found their life’s snuffed out by the massive jaws and the terrible strength that the dog possessed.
But perhaps the days of hunting alone was over? Maybe it had found a new pack member and a fellow hunter to share kills with, time would tell if its trust was well placed.
For now the dog was content with resting beside the warmth of the fire, and keeping its keen ears open for any signs of the white wolfs or some other more deadly creature of the night.
Dawn brought the promise of a coming storm and the last legs of the autumn. Winter now stood awaiting its turn to dress the lands.

Brage awoke feeling something heavy resting on his lap, expecting to find a branch or lump of moss he found the head of the dog resting peacefully on his knees, the animal lay silent and watched him with eyes that spoke volumes to someone like him.
Clearly he had earned a new comrade last night, and he was pleased to see that the hound had not touched his other supplies or startled the horse that stood nearby and was busy savaging a bush of some sort.
“Suppose I need to name you then? Hmm well Dread fits you fine. You certainly would make any would be sheep thief dread your wrath eh?” he said and patted the animal on its head.

Didn't expect it to turn into a buddy/road movie with one man and his dog!

Are we going to see much more from Dread's perspective? That could be interesting!

Well I wanted to experiment with an alternativ partner for the main person. And yes, that you will indeed

The day began with a heavy fog that remained for many hours as he made his way down the muddy road, it only lifted when the wind returned. Although the change was not welcomed, for it was a biting cold wind that came howling down from the far north. And whom brought with it the threat of snow, he felt a sense of urgency now and a need to get further west before the snow came.
He for one did not intend to trudge trough snow with a horse in tow and noting in the way of winter supplies at hand.
He looked around to see where Dread was and also to look for any signs of potential trouble in these lonely woods, he spotted the dog trudging across the meadow that lay to his left.
The dog had its nose planted in the mud and seemed intent on finding something or someone to sink its teeth in.

“Always hungry eh” Brage muttered as he steered his horse around a deep puddle of mud, just as he had said those words the sounds of said hound drew his attention from the puddle.
He had not pegged Dread as one to start barking at the wind, or a passing crow so he looked in its direction while halting his horse.
It did not take long however before the things that had earned Dread’s ire. For there lay several figures on the muddy ground, surrounded by crimson and the signs of a very recent fight still plain to see.
The hound circled the bodies while growling and eyes scanning the edge of the nearby woods, its dark eyes seemingly scanning the wood line for any hidden archers or observers. Its lips drawn back and its yellow teeth showing as the dog showed its poorly hidden dislike for these things.
As Brage drew near he saw that several of the still forms had been riddled with arrows, the long slender arrow shafts sticking out of the bodies.
Dismounting to get a closer look he stood for a moment to take in the scene before him.
In addition to the still and obviously dead forms of a dozen or so men there was also the crimson colored figures of a few women and a child no older than ten summers.
As he exterminated the bodies closer he noticed that the men seemed to have died fighting or they had been struck down before they could draw steel.
The women however had been less fortunate, he did not need to see more of such horrors and looked away in abject disgust.
The bodies where not older than a day or two, for there where still few signs of any scavengers, so therefore he suspected that the ones that had done this dark and foul deed was some distance away by now.

He knelt down by by one of the bodies, and turned the muddy corps over. The face of the man was one of fear and shock, noting he had seen before. But it never got any easier still though, the man was middle aged and well fed by the look of him.
Two arrows had struck the man below the collar bone on the left side, and the arrows had punched trough the bone and flesh and now could be seen jutting out of his backside.
Feeling the arrow tip he gripped the shaft, and with one violent push he drove the arrow head cleanly out of the wound.
Bits of flesh and blood stuck to the arrow head but it told him all he needed to know as he saw the flint tip gleam dully.
“Trice cursed dogs!” he snarled and got back to his feet while wiping his hands on his pants. There was no doubt about the ones that had waylayed this party of travelers, and doomed them to this miserable ending to their already miserable life’s.
Knowing what fate awaited the dead if left laying about here Brage grinned at the thought, but he drew his hatchet and went to work breaking up the abandoned wagon that lay in between the dead travelers, the sound of his hatchet and the breaking of wood soon filled the air as he worked on the kindling he needed to build the funeral pyre for the dead.
Some time later a spire of black and rather unpleasant smoke rose towards the sky and the woodsman stood silent and watched the funeral pyre.
Satisfied that the dead was tended to and that he had done what he could, to help them pass onto whatever afterlife awaited the dead Brage returned to his horse and swung himself into the saddle with practiced ease. He raised the hood of his heavy wool cloak and turning his horse westwards once more he kicked the animal into motion.
As the pair of unlikely companions where now back on their course to the west, and yet had to encounter any foes beside the elements, and noting more dangerous than building a funeral pyre for slain travelers one would be forgiven for thinking that their luck would continue. But fate however and others had different ideas.

From under the cover of the dense woodland that bordered the meadows than ran along the road, something was shadowing them, hungry and blood tinted eyes observing the journey of the lone rider and his great hound.
A great maw opened to reveal dagger like teeth and massive human like paws gripped the soft moss beneath the great creature as it observed its next meal. It belly growled and it let out a low growl of frustration due to the fact that the meat it had intended to feast upon where now burning and filling the air with the sickening smell of burning man flesh.
The great ape slunk back into the darkness of the woods and continued to stalk its prey, sensing that it soon would be able to lay an ambush for the man and horse. Gliding trough the dense woodland like a grey ghost the beast hunted its upcoming meal.

As Brage rode on and the pillar of black smoke began to disappear behind the trees, he became lost in thought once more. Although he kept one eye and ear open for signs of trouble, as he sat in the saddle he became aware of one thing that made him pause.
The sounds of birds had vanished from the woods that now had once more closed in around him, that itself was not uncommon but still he felt somewhat uneasy by this. And therefore he lay one hand on his sword hilt and prepared to draw it if need be. One could never be to cautions in these lands, experience had taught him that, and if not the slaughtered party of travelers would have done so.
Then a low menacing growl from Dread made him aware that there was definitively something amiss, knowing that a mounted man was vulnerable in the woodlands. He dismounted and took one cautions step towards the forest edge with his sword in hand.
“ if anyone is hiding I suggest you make yourself visible before I send my dog after you!” he called out with a firm voice, hoping to either make whomever was lurking in the woods come out or to reconsider whatever they had planned for him.
He waited for several heartbeats but no reply came and the woods remained silent as the grave.
But looking to his comrade for the road he knew something was not as it should have been, for the dog seemed to teeter on the edge of fight or flight.
Its ears seemingly tracking some unseen and unheard observer with the keen senses animals posses, and its lips drawn back.
“What you hear boy?” Brage said as readied his bow and took a cautions step away from his now nervous horse that was stamping its hooves and with eyes flaring from fright.
He was not afraid of any beasts that haunted these woodlands but now he was feeling his hearth beat faster and his mouth turn dry.
Then as Brage had just drawn his bow ready to let fly, a howl that seemed to shake him to his very bones filled the woodlands. And made crows and other birds caw in fear and dismay of being disturbed as they left their perches high above.
Dread began to bark as if struck by madness and the great hound seemed to shiver with a mixture of anticipation of the fight to come, and sheer animalistic fear.
“Gods help us both!” the woodsman muttered as he prepared himself.
Then with a great bellow like a charging bull the beast came for him. Its dark fur gleaming with drops of moisture and its great paws ending in crude and wicked looking talons gripping the ground beneath its paws.
It charged straight for the man and probably expected the puny creature to flee like most others did when confronted with one of the great forest apes.
Knowing the man could not outrun it the animal barreled into the horse, who screamed in abject terror and pain but only before a brief time. The beast used its ungodly strength and massive bulk to break the neck of the horse like a twig between its great fists.
Howling in pure animalistic glee the beast turned around to face the two in its own mind, puny prey objects that remained.
But if it thought that man and hound would go down easily, it was sorely mistaken.
Brage had used the precious few heartbeats that he had at his disposal to draw his razor sharp blade., and to his relief his now sole renaming companion, the enormous hound Dread still stood at his side. Teeth barred and a low and menacing growl in its barrel like chest.
Calling to perhaps distract the beast or trick it into making a mistake or two Brage yelled to it.
“Oy you overgrown piece of horse murdering filth! Come and taste steel!” and somewhat to his surprise and perhaps regret the beast seem to take offense to this.
For the great ape howled and beat it hairy chest and came on like a enraged bear, with teeth barred and filthy claws tearing up the soil as it charged.

He barely avoided the first swipe of his foe, and dodged a second as Dread lunged to one side, and began circling. Seeking a chance to sink his great teeth into the great beast that threaten his master.
Then suddenly, one of the great paws found its mark and sent the woodsman reeling. Even if it has just been a glancing blow, and the man had time to thank the gods that he was wearing his scale mail before the beast lunged for him.
He brought up his sword up and was rewarded with a howl of pain from the beast, as the sharp edge drew a bloody line across its chest.
Then as the beast came at him once more but more cautious now, he saw a familiar form come like a thunderbolt and the snarl of his great hound distracted the beast as it felt a set of teeth buried themselves in its neck.
Dread hung on for dear life, and used every ounce of his great strength to pull and tug as he hung there, and struggled for purchase on the great hairy back of his foe with all of his four paws.
The great beast howled in frustration and pain, as both steel and tooth took its toll on it. But it was far from beaten, with a violent shake it finally managed to dislodge the snarling hound, and rewarded its four legged foe with a backhanded blow that sent it reeling across the muddy ground.
Then it turned its fury upon the man that dared to offer such ferocious resistance.
And with a blood curdling scream of berserk rage the beast sank into its bottomless rage and came for the man.

That's one bad-ass ape! Nice graphic fight scene, with the little vignette beforehand showing some insight into Brage's character. A good read, Trondheim!

'For the great ape howled and beat it hairy chest and came on like a enraged bear, with teeth barred and filthy claws tearing up the soil as it charged.'

Now that's what I call a line!

Agreed all round with Necroagogo, keep it coming with this twist of a tale.

Many thanks both of you, glad to hear that my tale meets your standards

Standards?...What standards?.....No way, I've Got standards? Oh yeah.

Brage saw the ape hurl Dread like a child throwing a rag doll and the yelp of pain from the hound told him that his companion had not so lucky with his landing.
But the towering and bloody figure of the great ape took most of his focus, for the beast was now deep into its blood rage. And he knew that a already dangerous foe had just gotten a lot more deadly.
He dived to one side and avoided a brutal downward blow, and barely avoided a second one that would have either killed him or seriously wounded him.
As he fought to keep clear of both fang and claw he realized that he would likely die here, if he did not manage to end this fight soon.
Then as he had just slashed the beast across the shoulder and tried to backpedal a blow from his foe caught him squarely in the chest and sent him tumbling along the ground with the wind knocked out of him.
He came to a violent stop when he slammed into the carcase of his dead horse, and he felt a sharp and very unpleasant sting from his ribs as he did. Feeling a wave of nausea roll in over him as he tried to regain his footing and for a few moments more escape his own demise he found that his strength had abandoned him.
And like a daemon spawned in the fires of the abyss itself his foe closed in for the kill, with gore stained claws and a mask of absolute fury upon its hideous face.
However sometimes fate or perhaps some other force changes the fate of men and beast, for as the towering ape that had devoured scores of men and other prey loomed over his beaten and bloody prize a new actor entered the stage.
The beast sensed this new arrival and turned to face it, its rage still burning hot in its veins and its massive body still spoiled for a fight with anything or anyone.
But it would find itself hard pressed when faced with this new foe, for like a brooding avatar of some dark god the figure emerged from the gloom of the woods.
A mane of long fiery red hair decorated with bronze and bone talismans, pale skin marred by many gruesome scars and eyes with yellow pupils paired with a towering height and a build like a tribute to the infamous half troll tribes of the north added to her aura of raw power.
In one hand the warrior gripped a great axe, that had been forged to resemble the head of a wolf and with a long and straight handle made from some dark metal.
She did not speak as she began to spin her axe in a figure of eight as she stalked forwards like a red furred hunting cat from the south lands.
The ape wived this new foe with a bloodshot eyes, but even in its bezerker rage it recognized this female a far more imposing and worthy foe to devour than the man and his savage dog.
Howling madly it came at her, massive fists clenched into mallets that would have dented the amour of a knight, or slain a horse with one terrible blow.

She watched the ape come and saw its terrible madness burn bright in its ruby red eyes. She smelled the stink of its sweat and the reek of carrion and blood.
As the beast lunged for her in an follow up to its initial flurry of blows and wild lunges, she gripped her axe and with a savage how that rivaled that of her foe, using the axe head as a hammer she struck the beast squarely in the jaw, knocking loose teeth and drawing a yelp of pain and surprise from the animal.
But her now wounded foe never had time to repay her, for as the beast recoiled from the brutal blow, and was about to give ground to its foe, she lunged forwards, and using her almost inhumane strength she swung the axe high and struck like a viper.
With a sicking crunch of bone and a fountain of cranial matter and blood the axe cleaved the thick skull of the ape and dug deep into its neck, before stopping when the blade stuck bone deep down.
As the beast slumped to the ground and blood spilled out from the gruesome wound the towering woman gripped the axe shaft and with one mighty yank pulled the weapon free.


Watching this spectacle of martial prowess and sheer inhumane strength where Brage, whom by now was beginning to drift into unconsciousness. His breathing was labored and he felt blood beginning to pool under him, he fought to stay awake and tried to reach for his blade, but the man felt his strength beginning to fail him.
A low whimper to his side drew his attention before he finally succumbed to unconsciousness,Dread stood by his side, looking worse for wear but still alive.
The dog licked the face of his master and whimpered as the dog undoubtedly realized why his master was not getting back up on his feet to meet this new foe.
So despite being wounded and weary from the fight the dog readied itself to defend its master from this new potential foe.
Teeth barred and a low menacing growl rising from its chest the great hound glared bloody murder at the woman whom had put away her axe and where walking towards the duo.

She watched the great hound limp to stand by its master side, and she knew that it would not think to rip her throat out if she had made the wrong move, not that the animal looked fit to do any fighting but she respected the warrior spirit of the animal.
The man clad in a well made scale mail shirt and with heavy leather boots and gloves alongside well made but rough looking wool cloths looked far worse, he was pale and a pool of dark red blood could be seen forming under him. The great beast had clearly harmed him after all, his blade lay disregarded by the side of the road and gleamed in the sunlight that had pierced the sky above.
Speaking with a deep voice that fitted her great figure she sought to calm the dog, so that she could perhaps save the man from passing into the realms of death.
“Rest easy hound, I seek not to harm your master or you. Please stand aside and let me pull him back into the world of the living.”
As if looking deep into her soul the dog locked eyes with her for a moment before giving way, albeit somewhat reluctant.
“You have my word hound that no harm will come to you or your master.” she said while kneeling down and rolling the man over, so that he rested on his backside.
Drawing her own dagger she began to undo the heavy mail shirt and with some difficulty she pulled it over his head as carefully as she could manage with regards to his wounds.
Cutting open the heavy wool shirt she was pleased to see that it was not as severe as she had feared, a single albeit long and rather nasty looking wound ran down his side, but it had not broken any bones or pierced deep into his body.
Content that he would withstand being carried some way away from this place he lifted him up with both arms, and almost carried him like a mother sheltering her child the great red haired woman began to make her way to her own campsite.
It was from there she had woken to the distant baying of a hound, and the sounds of battle that had sounds trough the woodlands, Looking back to the hound she said.
“Come on then, no reason for you to remain here and beside any wounded warrior is welcomed at my campfire, no matter how they look.”

Dread watched the strange woman, whom was unlike any other he had ever seen or smelled approach his master after he had limped out of the way. She smelled like the deep woods and faintly of brimstone for some strange reason.
As she lifted his master effortlessly and began to walk away he was torn between staying here and nursing his own wounds, or to follow his master and this strange female.
In the end it was not a hard decision and with a low whimper he hobbled after her, his great pink tongue hanging from his mouth as he panted heavily.

When she reached her campsite that where inside a small cave once occupied by a great bear. She layed the man down and began to tend to his wounds. That meant stripping of most of his cloths, and pulling of his boots.
This task she went about almost effortlessly as she had tended to wounded warriors before, but that had been a long time since now, some old memory of her and a raven haired woman sharing a campfire in a cave resembling this one made her pause as a single tear dripped down her gore stained face.
Cleaning the wound and then sowing it back together with a bone needle that she kept on a thread under her shirt using sinew she hoped to mend the damage done to the man by the great ape.
As she did so, something dawned on her. This man that lay half naked and unconscious before her had Pict blood running in his veins, that made her grin and almost curse herself for saving his hide. But he did not wear woad nor was he clad like the average savage soul from beyond the borderlands.
She also tended to the hound that had limped into the cave as she sowed the bloody and battered man back together, she gave it a mixture of herbs mixed with warm water to drink and stitched its wounds as best she managed while the dog lay perfectly still and allowed her to do so.
The herbs had soothed the animal but still, with such a great hound one could never know, admiring its powerful build and its almost mail like fur she understood why a man traveling in these dangerous lands kept such a beast.
“You are a hard one ain’t you lad” she said and ran one hand along its head before scratching it behind the ears.
“Sleep now and rest, you and your master are safe from harm here.”

content that her two injured and rather unexpected guests where safe for the moment, and not in danger of dying from their wounds she rose to her feet and walked outside the smoke filled cave.
She was in dire need of a wash after the bloody work she had done, and taking a chance she stripped of every piece of clothing and plunged down into the cold water of the stream that ran a bow shot away from the cave.
Her long red hair floating around her like the wings of a great bird soaring high in the skies, and her pale skin where riddled with goosebumps from the cold stream, she did her best to wash away the blood, sweat and gore. She also tried to wash her deerskin shirt but it seemed the blood had soaked into the very hide of the thing so she gave up upon getting all the blood of it.
Pleased with her efforts she rose from the deep pool and waded ashore, the cold air making her nipples grow hard and making her hurry ashore There she dressed herself and tied her wet hair into a knot with practiced ease, the charms made from bone and bronze gleamed dimly in the light of the autumn sun as she made her way back up to the cave.

Nice new entery, and good to see Ashild's return. Will there be a short tale perhaps to explain why she left the side of her lover and is back in human(ish) form?

 Themanwiththeplan wrote:
Nice new entery, and good to see Ashild's return. Will there be a short tale perhaps to explain why she left the side of her lover and is back in human(ish) form?

Yes that there will be, as some of my regular readers will remember something rather dramatic happend with Ashild the last time I used her in a story. All will be explained in due time

Welcome back Ashild! It'll be interesting to see the dynamic between the two characters develop ...

It took almost a full day and night before the wounded man woke from the deep and murky depths of unconsciousness.
He woke to a unexpected feeling of warmth and soft bedding underneath his backside. Looking around and realizing that his wound was stitched up, and that he was very much still alive he allowed himself a deep breath of relief, when the great ape had struck him down he fully expected to die on that muddy road deep in the middle of nowhere.
But that also raised several questions that left him feeling rather uneasy, particulary as his sword was not at his side, and his other belongings where also nowhere to be seen.
The gloom of the cave also added to this sense of unease, as he tried to get up to orient himself a familiar panting made him turn his head, and to his relief he saw his hound looking him over as if inspecting a side of beef.
“Oi you greedy mutt! I ain’t dead yet so keep your appetite” he muttered to the dog that padded over to him and seemed to have been patched up as well.
He patted Dread on the head and took comfort in that whomever had saved him had won the trust of the dog, witch in itself was a indication of the nature of his unseen savior in his time of need.
It was at that moment that the memories from the dreadful encounter with the great ape began to come back to him, the sight of the beast towering above him ready to make a meal of him. And then the arrival of that towering warrior woman whom had dispatched the animal with one gruesome strike of her axe.
“By the gods I wonder where that one went of to?” he muttered to himself, as he managed to get up while clutching his side.
“Anyone here?” he dared to call out as he looked about for his sword and bow. He noted that his shirt was gone and that his scale mail had been removed, that did not cause him much grief. Since it had been ruined by that blow that had almost killed him, But his sword however... that was another entirely different matter.
Seeing how he got no response he took a few more trying steps, and found that his knees although somewhat wobbly carried him well enough.
Looking down on the wound he was amazed to see that it was neatly stitched together and well cleaned. So clearly his savior had some understanding of how to care for wounded witch was comforting to know at least.

Suddenly he noticed that Dread was glaring at something behind him and not being one to let someone sneak up on him, even when he was in such an reduced state he turned to see.
To say the man was shocked would not be wrong, for there stood a woman that loomed over him, she was an imposing sight to behold. Her long red hair decorated with bone and brass charms hung like a mane around her broad shoulders and down across her ample bosom that where concealed behind a thick mail shirt. Her skin although pale showed that she had lived in the wilds for some time, and her eyes seemed to pierce his very soul as they looked him over.
On her hip hung the great axe he had seen her use to slay the ape and thus saving him from a bloody demise.
He was seldom one to feel dwarfed by any man or woman, but this one definitively made him feel somewhat worried. She was clearly a very skilled fighter for such an aura as she had only those whom lived and prospered by the sword had. It was an almost predatory aura yet not one of outright hostility towards the world at large, just a willingness to spill blood at the drop of a pin,
Summoning his nerves he took the bull by the horns so to speak.
“My thanks for saving my life and that of my comrade, I must say it was some rather impressive axe work you displayed. My compliments on your style fair lady” he said and nodded in respect to his caretaker.
“No may I ask to by witch name you go? I would like to know the name of my savior” he finished and awaited her reply.
She answered with a surprisingly soft yet hard voice “ Ashild is the name that was given to me by the shaman of my tribe in the ice wastes of the far north the day I was born into this world, and you do not need to thank me for saving you. No man deserves to become the meal of one of the great apes, and yes. I have some skill with both axe and spear” she said as she sank down onto the stone floor of the cave and looked at him with those glimmering eyes.
Not waiting for him to reply she continued “ I tended to your wounds as best as I could, you will be stiff for some time. But the wound will be closed in a matter of days, I smeared a herbal mixture that will speed up the healing and prevent any sickness setting in the wound. Now you need to eat, outside over the fire there is a pair of rabbits cooking. Make sure you eat every scrap of them, I hate having to feed a picky eater”
Nodding his thanks, Brage made his way out of the small cave and slumped down by the fire and reached for the sapling that had been used to hold the rabbits as the roasted over the low burning fire.
Cursing the food for being so damned warm to the touche, and the lack of a knife to help himself he decided that sometimes one just needed to wait while the food became more manageable. But his now growling stomach made him reconsider that idea, and soon he was eating like a starved man. The meat was not very tender but it did the job of filling his belly, and he could feel the warmt spreading into his limbs and that his body had truly needed the meal.
Dread sat and watched this, his own belly rumbling but the dog did not make any noise as his master devoured both of the hares with all the manners of a wolf.
He was pleased that master still lived and that he seemed to be in good form and mood, although the dog probably doubt cursed him for being so greedy.

“I see manners are lost to you as me” Brage heard Ashild say as she exited the cave and came to sit on the other side of the fireplace, she seemed to be amused by his hunger and utter dedication to the meal.
“Well yes... pardon that I don’t normally eat like a starved wolf, well at least when not in company of others.”
To that she simply smiled, and revealed a set of sharp teeth that gave her a almost inhumane look as she sat there and gazed at him.
“Don’t worry, I am not going to devour your soul or anything. My teeth are part of the legacy one gets for being half troll and half human. You are not the first to look at them, nor will you be the last. And beside, I am not the only one here with mixed blood in my veins...” she finished.
“ I know what it means to be of two different people, it is not always a positive thing I can agree with.” he said as he finished gnawing the meat of the last rabbit leg, and with one somewhat move throwing the bones to Dread that lunged at this gift with a great hunger, and with saliva dripping from his massive jaws the hound devoured the bones to the very last scrap.

“So to what place where you traveling before being waylaid by the beast? “ she asked as she lit a pipe that she had pulled from a leather pouch.
“I was traveling to the west, with word of the state of the borders of the kingdom and the general lay of the land so to speak. I was hired as a scout for the crown some time ago and where planing to collect my pay and seek other forms of employment, had enough of being cold and miserable in some unnamed mountain pass or some godforsaken wood to fill a lifetime” he said and spat into the fire.
“What about you? Seeking new employment as a sell sword? Or simply wandering?”
To this question he got no immediate answer, he could see that she was thinking up a reply. So he deiced to not press the issue, no need to tease a sleeping dragon and what not he thought to himself.

“Wandering and searching for someone I used to be.....close with years ago, I suppose she has found someone else by now to be perfectly honest. But still I want to see her again” the woman said and let out a puff of bluish smoke that slowly rose towards the sky before being swept away by a gentle breeze.
“I suppose a steady supply of coin would be good, but its not a thing I crave any longer. Gold and silver lost its appeal long ago.” she said and closed her eyes for a moment, as if recalling some old memory that struck a cord with her.
“ But now I crave traveling company, and you are in no shape or form to travel alone just yet. So it seems we are stuck with each other” she said and rose to her feet.
“There are cloths in the back of the cave. They should fit you, I also placed your sword and bow there. You mail I had to ruin to save you from bleeding out.” she said and paused for a moment.
“ it seems you are in need of a new horse as well, seeing how you last mount meet an untimely demise. But I have no horse to let you ride on and there is no horse traders for many leagues around here, so I suppose until we find you an replacement you are walking. “ she said as she got to her feet, and headed for the cave to begin packing her few belongings.

Now left to his own thoughts and the rather smelly tender love and care courtesy of Dread, whom seemingly had forgiven him for not sharing the rabbits.
The dog rested its massive head on his shoulders and let out a low whimper and gave him a look that could only be described as sympathetic.
He patted the dog and in his own mind he came to the conclusion that he was after all alive, and his savior was not sore on the eyes. Altogether she seemed a bit rough around the edges, and he made a vow to never make a remark about women being weak around her, but there was something else about her too, something that gave him a rather uneasy tingling that ran down his spine and ended in a slight shiver.
It was clear to him that she was no fool, and in addition to her very impressive skill with the axe, and her knowledge of tending to wounded men. She also seemed to posses a very keen mind capable of some very deep bouts of reflexion and judgment of character.
Having spent most of the day since he woke from the deep and trance like sleep after he had fallen unconscious speaking to her, he had formed a solid opinion on his rather mystic savior.
As she bent down and packed the few things she had with her in a satchel made from wolf skin, and all but loosing herself in that familiar routine she thought of the man she had saved, and in some ways burdened herself with. He was clearly a well seasoned and experienced frontiersman that had seen much hardship and how deep into the darkness of savagery man could fall, he also was skilled with a blade since very few people knew how to use a sword as he carried well.
Yet there was more to him, just as it was with her than meet the eye at first glance, few men would willingly spend time in the wilds that lay beyond the frontiers. Where now only the ruins of a desolate land and the remains of a brutal civil war had all but torn a land apart almost thirty years ago. The same war that had been her own source of torment and much, much sorrow.
No noting good came of thinking about those dark days she knew, and quelled the growing unease within herself that always swelled up when those memories came back to her.
She had discovered that much when she had looked trough the contents of his saddlebags after she had tended to his wounds, and the man lay in deep, deep sleep.
The maps and the rolled up sheet of paper had given her some clues to why he was riding hard for the west, but she could be wrong too. For all she knew he could be what he claimed to be, and not some servant of the crown sworn to utmost secrecy and speed. Time would reveal these matters she decided and closed the satchel and hung it across her shoulders.
When she emerged from the gloomy cave she saw that he was standing up, and had somehow managed to get himself dressed. The shirt she had given him was a bit to large for his lean frame, but it did the job, and with his thick wool cape draped across his shoulders he looked every bit the frontiersman he no doubtless hoped to come across as. He looked leaner without his armor, but she imagined he was glad not having to wear it while his wound where still healing.
“So I take it you are intent on beginning the walk to the west then?” he said and glanced at her packed satchel and the campfire witch he had taken the liberty of putting out. Nodding she hefted her axe and slid it into the leather strap that rested on her hip.
“Aye that I do, we are at least four days away from the nearest hamlet due west, but I suspect we may pass a homestead or two as we go. Do not hesitate to tell me if your wound starts to bleed again, I have enough things to deal with it should it do so.” she finished and stepped by him, and in a almost casual move she handed him his sword and bow.
“You may be needed these before the days on the queens road is over, the woods are no longer safe for anyone.” she said without explaining that statement further.

Brage stood for a moment and watched her as she walked onwards into the direction that the road lay, then he shouldered his quiver and bow and strapped his sword belt back onto his own waistline before setting after the red haired woman whose swaying hips would perhaps enthralled a lesser man.
“Come on lad, no reason for you to stand around all day looking smug” he said teasingly to Dread whom shot him a glare and came trudging after his master and pack mate as they followed their new companion onto the awaiting road that lay ahead of them.

So what happened with Ashild in the past then? Does Brage think he's in with a chance? Imagine how mixed up the offspring would be!

Well I intend to explain that in due time, but I can say as much as sorcery and a hint of Draconic involvement was to blame. And no, Brage is a man not governd by his groin, witch a lot of fantasy heros seems to be

Nice to see a new entry. Ashild says it's been 30 years since the civil war. what I wonder has she been at all this time?

As the unlikely traveling companions where beginning their long march towards the west, and more civilized lands and the onset of the bitter cold Kels winter drew closer, and closer with each passing hearth beat. There where those whom already felt the change in the air, both in terms of loyalty and of the seasons.
When the would be throne thief had been slain and most of his dishonorable supports had either been killed, or fled to some far away lands the then young queen had ordered the capital of her now war torn and ravaged realm purged of all signs of the foul traitor.
She had gone to great lengths in breathing new life into the city, and trying to restore the sense of a unified kingdom once more. In many ways she had succeeded while in some success had been slow to be seen.
The taxes had been a necessary evil to help the rebuilding but had been met with angry growls and protests from those whom now had to pay more than they felt inclined to do so, but none dared to openly oppose the tax collectors and their armed escorts as they collected what the crown needed.
The people where still scarred by the savage civil war that had raged for the better part of almost ten years, and when it had finally come to an end her subjects started their slow return to a peaceful life, by a royal decree all those whom appeared in front of a oath sword judge with a grudge to settle was given the chance to do so, either by steel or by the ruling of the royal law.
Even so many grudges where slow to die and there where still those whom nurtured a burning hate deep within their chests.
Farms had been burnt, cattle and sheep stolen, eaten or simply reverted back to the wild. And wheat fields lay barren after their owners had fled or been killed by raiders, so therefor famine had also been a problem until the land was resettled and a new generation of farmers could take up the plow to help feed the kingdom and its starving masses.

She felt exhausted and spent as she sank down in the chair that stood by her solid oaken table, allowing herself a moment to simply relish the feeling of silence and the absences of the bickering nobles, court servants and what not that seemed to plague her when the royal court was in session.
More than once had the queen wished to smack the oafs hard with an armored gauntlet to make them keep quiet so that she could speak uninterrupted. Or to have her personal guard that hailed from the frozen and savage province of Vanaheim drag them outside and put their heads on a spike, but she knew that even if she could simply command them to keep quiet and don’t plague her with such nonsenses as land disputes, or some argument over trade agreements she needed to hear them out. For a ruler that governed trough fear was no true monarch and thus no better than a warlord whom ruled by the sword and fear alone.
She now had passed into her late forties she was still a formidable woman to behold when she was angered, or when she had to lead her armies against the predations of the savage Picts or the ever opportunistic city states that shared borders with her kingdom.
The queen was not one to spend her days in lavish luxury, instead she kept to a strict and almost brutal regime of physical and mental exercise, for a woman whom sat on the throne needed to be hard as iron, and as soothing as silk when the situation demanded it.
Over the years her personal attendants and other had suggested that she should allow herself to relax more, and not wear herself out while beating younger men senseless on the training field, or occasionally being beaten senseless herself when she sparred with one of the hulking sea born warriors of Vanaheim.
She had refused these suggestions with a scowl and some sharp reply, but she knew that it was not just because she wanted to keep herself fit and able.
For it was well known amongst the nobles of her inner circle that the queen was a emotionally scarred and vulnerable one. She had tried several times to find comfort in others, or to try and fall in love again but to no use, for her hearth still bleed for a red haired woman that had been lost to her so many years ago. But this was a secret guarded most deeply by her inner circle, for the common man and noble had no reason to know this.
The queen had however not forgotten that one day she would pass on and the throne needed to be handed over to someone else. Therefor she had adopted at that time a young and orphaned girl, whom now was her most prized joy and pride.
But now queen Charsi felt no need to see her adopted daughter, instead she craved sleep and the peace that it brought, and beside she could not wait to be out of these fashionable cloths. She hated all the glitter and fashion but she suffered that in silence, as a monarch needed to look the part too.

Getting up from her deep and plush chair proved harder than expected but she prevailed and soon she had begun to prepare for bed. But as she stood brushing her hair, that had begun to show a few grey hairs here and there a knock on her door disrupted her peace.
“What in the seven shades of devilry is it now then” she muttered as she put down the hair brush and went to the door and opening it so that she could peer outside to see whom where outside.
Peering out she looked right into the chest of the towering form of her most trusted guard and commander of the royal palace guard, the man whom resembled a bear more than man stood there in his trade mark suit of armor and one hand resting on the great two handed axe he always carried.

“Pardon mistress but lord Askhaug demands to see you, even if we told him that you did not wish to be disturbed. But he refuses to listen! Do you wish to for me to “suggest” to him that he should wait until morning? Or do the queen wish to see him at this late hour.”
The now somewhat less than regal looking woman swore under her breath, and then answered her guard.
“Let him in then, or else he will never keep quiet. But him alone! No one else!”
“Yes my queen” the towering warrior said and bowed his head in respect for his queen.
As she wrapped a silk blanket around her shoulders and took a deep sip of the chilled wine, and sat down the ornate glass goblet the footsteps of the man that had demanded to see her filled the silence of her personal quarters.
“I pardon having to disturb you my queen at this ungodly hour, but I have something that I dread could not wait until morning.” the man said and almost if placing something made of precious glass placed a scroll of rolled up parchment upon the table before him.
Lord Simon Askhaug was a pale and skeletal man, with a hawkish nose and lips thin as two red lines of ink. Renowned for being devoid of any sense of humor or willingness to mingle with most of the nobility of Kels whom he held few warm emotions for.
During the war he had been one of the most infamous leaders of the royalist cause, leading several regiments in daring raids and bloody ambushes that sowed mayhem and fear amongst those whom had sided with the throne robber. Although many whispered that he had little love to spare for the queen and her followers, but none the less. He served without complaints and took to his tasks with great determination and zeal.
But those whom spoke ill about him also knew that he was a relentless foe and possessed of a mind as keen as a sword edge, so therefor few where willing to voice their dislikes for the man in public.
“I am inclined to disagree with you Simon, as personal experience tells me that unless there is an enemy army at the gates, or a knife wielding madman on the loose, most things can wait until I have had a chance to sleep for a few hours.” the queen said in a weary tone.
“ Most of the time I would be inclined to agree with you my lady, but now is not one such moment in history, I received this report from a man that dose certain shady tasks for me. At first I suspected it to simply be his report of his findings. But when I read these words I realized otherwise. “ he said in a flat tone and handed the parchment that where sealed with wax and his own letterhead.
As the queen read what where detailed in the closed letter her face changed appearance, it went from simply weary and slightly annoyed to one that gleamed with to one that gleamed with worry and perhaps fear.
She sank into the chair that stood beside the table, clearly deep in a swirl of thoughts before answering her chancellor.
“ Send word to all the border forts and to my thanes that hold those lands. Tell them to increase their patrols and stay alert to any signs of trouble brewing.”
Taking a long and deep sip of her wine and setting the goblet back down she closed the discussion.
“I will address the court come the morning, but as of now you are to send men to watch those we know harbor ill feelings towards the crown. But make sure it is done as discretely as possible. I don’t want those damned nobles to have any reason to start growling if this all turns out to be a passing thing”
“As you say my lady” the chamberlain said and departed the chambers of his queen, duty speeding his walk as he passed the silent forms of the palace guards that loomed in the dimly light halls and corridors.

Lord Simon Askhaug walked with a gloomy look on his face down the dark halls of the palace, the whole place seemed to tingle with intrigue at times. And he took the responsibility to stamp out any major ones very serious, he did not care what the petty nobles and gentry said about him. Only that they obeyed their queen and feared his wrath should they stray from the path of the just and loyal.
But he was deeply worried, for the amount of ill omens had been growing steadily the last few months, and with winter closing in fast and the savages stirring along the border, things could spiral into mayhem all too quickly.
“May the gods speed your journey Brage” the chamberlain muttered as he paused to look out over the sleeping city that lay in the shadow of the palace, and guarded by the immense walls of the city.
He knew that it was a almost hopeless mission to send any man on, but he could not think of anyone better suited for the tasks he had given the man over the years, in return for making sure that the crimes the man had been charged with was wiped away.
Even if the relationship between the two was not a particulary warm one, they both knew that they depend on each other in a almost twisted way.
As the man whom had been given many rather unflattering nicknames by the people he dealt with approached his own personal quarters he became aware of the very faint sound of footsteps coming from behind him, on a almost seconded nature and one learned by a few attempts on his life over the years he gripped the hilt of his sword, but carried on walking as if unaware of anything abnormal.
As he paused in front of the solid oak door that separated his own chambers from the halls that lay outside and where about to look discretely over his shoulder he heard the sound of soft leather boots against the hard stone floor and the unmistakable sound of steel being drawn.

As a cat the hawkish man leaped out of the path of the unseen assailant, and thus narrowly avoided the broad bladed dagger intended for his back.
Simon swore profoundly as he scrambled backwards to get clear and thus being able to fend of this mad man, he also drew his own sword and held it firmly in one hand.
With murderous zeal driving his actions the assassin came for him, his dagger aimed at the left side of the man he sought to strike down, the knife wielding assailant seeing that his prey where armed and seemingly not intent on dying quietly.
Simon dodged a wild swipe and parried a second then using his sword he forced back the knife wielder, whom to his dismay drew a second dagger from his person and came at him hard and fast.
The clang of steel meeting steel rang out for a few moments, witch seemed like an eternity to the now rapidly tiring chamberlain.
He felt blood trickle down his face and his whole body seemed to burn with exhaustion, he knew he could not hold out for long against the blistering speed of his assailant and his spinning blades.
Then a strike with the pommel of one of his daggers the assassin stunned the man he sought to slay, following it up with a viscous headbutt that sent Simon stumbling to the floor with blood gushing from his ruined nose and several deep cuts the assassin loomed over his prey, gripping the sword that the prone man had wielded.
As he lay there bleeding and with his body screaming for a chance to recover Simon looked up at his soon to be killer.
“Come on you coward, kill me if you have the guts for it. And run back to the devils that hired your dark soul.” he said and spat at the feet of the dagger wielder that seemed angered by this, and rewarded him with a brutal kick to the ribs.
Raising the newly procured blade the masked one prepared to end this matter and vanish unseen by all but his soon to be dead target.
But before the blow fell however someone whom the assassin had forgotten to account for interrupted his dark deeds.
Like a thunderbolt the massive form of the captain of the palace guard struck the knife wielder with his massive two handed axe, the weapon sent the man spinning like a toy tossed by a child, leaving a bloody smear along the marble floor before striking the wall beneath the window looking down onto the courtyard below.
Gurgling blood the man tried to rise but with numerous bones shattered and a great gaping wound in his back the man took one last pained breath before his head slumped down onto the floor.
Only moments after the sound of more men running and the angry shouts of the now alarmed palace guard whom where mobilizing, this alongside the low and controlled voices of the sisters of mercy that had been summoned to tend to the wounds that the now unconscious and bloody chamberlain had suffered at the hands of his would be killer.
The captain of the guards, whom had slain the assassin and had served the queen for many long years surveyed the smear of blood and the signs of the struggle that had taken place before he had struck down the knife wielder and shook his head.
“Send word to the queen, and get someone to mop up all this trice cursed blood! And I want to know this damned scoundrel managed to worm his way into the palace! And armed no less!”

I feel a revolt maybe coming the Queens way. Plus nice to see the return of a fair few characters from the last saga. That Captain be a hardy old boss.

Charsi's done well for herself. Any chance of a reconciliation? Pretty please?

Brage sneezed and cursed the foul weather that seemed to be stalking him, as he now journeyed to the west with his two traveling companions.
The road was a sorry excuse for its kind, the foul mud and the added misery of being soaked to the bone and the faint sting of his own wounds.
He felt sorry for himself and wished for noting more than a warm cozy inn with plenty of beer and food at hand, or failing that a camp fire and a warm fur to warm his bones with.
At least he was not alone in his misery he mussed and looked to his side, where Dread trudged beside him, head hanging low and ears dipping. The hound seemed to also wish for warmer weather and a break from the rain and mud.
And leading the parade of soaking wet travelers where the redheaded warrior woman named Ashild, she seemed unphased by the ghastly weather and the cold wind that sung it mournful tune as it swept trough the tree tops overhead. Concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other he trudged onwards, and hoped that she planned to stop soon for the night, he would really hate to fall behind like some small child.
Ashild stopped at the crest of the hill, and looked back down at the man that where keeping a steady pace up the muddy road they had been following the entire day. He was not one for quitting it seemed, even if she suspected that his wounds hurt like hell. And that he really should have had a horse to ride, thus saving his strength and speeding his recovery. And then there was the massive beast of a hound that seemed to follow her with eyes that looked right into her very soul.
She had decided that the animal was no fool and that it suspected what blood beside human that flowed in her veins.

Looking to the grey sky and the heavy rainclouds that hung low, and draped the woods and hills in a fine shroud of mist she knew that they needed to stop soon for the night, because further exhausting their strength would do no good.
While she waited for the man to catch up to her, she reflected on the looming question that hung in the air. Witch was whom and what was stirring up trouble along the frontier and deep within the lands of Kels judging by the rumors she had heard when she had ventured into the few major cities that was to be found in this part of the realms.
She also dwelled with the memory of a raven haired girl, with fair skin and kind eyes and a laughter like a warm summer breeze that had stolen her hearth all those years ago.
That was one memory she had decided to see in the flesh before too long, if the gods where willing.
The labored breath of Brage and the stench of wet dog roused her from her train of thought.
“ So then my esteemed traveling companion an slayer of apes. Where do you think we could find shelter around here? I am not fussy about the place I rest my head but I would prefer it to be somewhere at least partially dry.” he said and spat while suppressing a sneeze once more.
“In there, we sleep under one of the giants of the woods this night, it should be dry enough for us all.” she said and pointed to a immense tree that stood some way into the woodland beside the road.
“Oh how charming, I just hope that I don’t end up with a branch falling down and reducing me to a red stain on the ground” Brage said and followed her into the woods.
The tree in question was a massive pine tree that was probably centuries old, and whom had seen countless passing of the seasons.
Beneath its massive limbs a thick layer of old and dry pine needles offered the trio a welcomed relief as they sunk down, weary to the bone and in need of rest.
“See if you cant find anything to get a fire going with, I will make the fire pit” he said and began brushing away the pine needles and using his hands to pull away the small roots and soft soil beneath. She nodded in silent agreement and got back on her feet, feeling somewhat sore, hefting her axe in one hand she went about gathering the firewood they needed to warm up and get some heat into their bodies.
Some time after she returned with her arms full of firewood and her hair decorated with pine needles and other things that had become stuck in it, a small fire blazed away and sent a spiral of smoke up amongst the branches overhead.
Dread had watched the red haired woman get back up, and brave the rain once more. Despite feeling his wounds sending small waves of discomfort, the great animal rose to his feet and padded after her. Protecting the females of the pack was a task he took most seriously, and beside he liked this one. She reminded him of someone else, that had cared for him and taught him how to fend for him self in the wilds. But that was just a memory now, sniffing the breeze that blew the dog growled.
The wind carried with it many smells and such, but there was one that made the massive hound bar his teeth. For he smelled wolves and those where his most hated foes, the ghost like animals that always prowled these lands. Ever ready to pounce upon the cattle he was supposed to guard, or the helpless sheep that where defenseless against such powerful predators. But he knew that they feared him and his raw might, but the grey coats where a long way from here. And therefor he did not sound the alarm, instead he brushed himself against the red haired woman and felt that she knew he was on guard.
When the wood collecting duo returned to the makeshift campsite the hound slumped down, feeling the weariness seeping into his very bones, casting one last look at his two pack members he drifted of into sleep.
Brage sat silently with his back to the gnarled and weather worn tree, while stuffing his pipe with the last of his tobacco. The ritual of cleaning the bone pipe, then stuffing it with the strong smelling herbs and finally setting a a spark to it made him feel at ease, there was something oddly soothing with the whole affair that made him cast of the shackles of weariness and the sting of his wounds.
As he did this he felt the cold gaze of Ashild observe his every move, but not in a unfriendly way. There was something distinctly different with this one he could tell. But what that was beyond the things that could be made out from her physical appearance and behavior was yet to be discovered.
“ You know, I have to say that I find it distinctly odd that a sell sword. And one that is half troll and half human, and so skilled with her weapon is trudging trough the wilderness instead of selling her trade in the heartlands of Kels or in one of the other Kingdoms. Hell I imagine even the Stygian throne or some of the city states in Thessalonia would have payed you well.”
Pausing to let out a puff of pale blue smoke he continued.
“ And beside that obvious and rather odd matter I also find it weird that you travel on foot, now I am sure that you have a good reason for it. Then there is the matter that you seem way more knowledgeable about the current state of affairs in Kels than most people are! I am not saying that it is suspicious but I do find it odd I have to say. Oh and then there is the fact that you carry a necklace studded with gems that is worth more coin than I dare think about.” the frontiersman finished and awaited any potential reply from his mysterious companion.

The barrage of questions and speculations seemed to sink in, without causing any at first visible signs of annoyance or a unwillingness to answer. Instead the half troll seemed to think hard about what she should say.
Then in a low tone she began to reveal what she knew, and why she wandered these lands whom was all but forgotten by the wider world.
“I was cast down into oblivion and darkness by a wielder of the dark arts thirty years ago. I lost my mind and my body to the horrific changes invoked by that foul deed of evil. For thirty years I anguished under its ruinous power until the spell was broken by some means I know not of. After that I spent the better part of a month lost in the wilds, wandering around like a broken shell of a woman until something restored my mind and gave me back my sanity along with a few precious relics of the past life I once had.”
looking now at her own feet with her long legs curled up she continued, but with a faint crack in her stoic tone.
“ After I had been set free and the cloths I wear and the silver trinkets I had been returned to me I set out for the hearth of the realm I fought to save from the evil that wanted to lay waste to it, but as I did things where revealed to me and I was awarded a new goal. One that will see me either dead or standing on the broken and mangled corpses of my enemies. Even though I have few memories of those dark years I know that the necklace I carry alongside these other trinkets are somehow bound to my own faith, witch I believe are to be found to the west”
“Sounds very dark and gloomy to me, never been one to appreciate sorcerers and their dark arts. They never sow anything but mayhem and misery. If we come across that vermin as we go Il lend you a hand so to speak, just don’t expect me to fight a summoned dragon or some other devilry” the man said and let out a deep breath.
“ Don’t worry, the one whom cast the spell died when it reached its crescendo. But evil still remains in these lands and will rear its ugly head once more and I own a blood oath to a woman that I hope still lives.”

As the conversation died down, and Ashild seemed to drift into sleep and her great frame stretching out beside the fire Brage sat motionless and brooded over the dark tale his companion had told him. The mentions of sorcery and other devilry made his skin crawl and a distinct feel of unease settled in his weary bones. He had encountered such mad men whom practiced the dark arts before and he had after those events sworn a oath to avoid their ilk when he could. But now it seemed that he perhaps would see more of those madmen.
Then there was the mystery of Ashild, even if she had given him parts of her story and reason for for heading towards the heart lands of Kels there was something that unnerved him.
She was indeed a personified mystery that would need some time to decode so to speak, but he felt that she intended him no harm.
Patting Dread on his head and pulling his heavy wool cloak around him he felt sleep begin to tug at his mind and soon he was drifting of into the dream realm.
Morning brought a pause in the rain, and a promise of better weather. The wind had shifted and the sun was peering out from behind the few clouds that remained, he felt energized by this small boon of respite and got to his feet, feeling his body thank him for a night of sleep and rest beside a fire.
“Good to see that you have decided to wake up, I was beginning to wonder if I had to drag you to a stream and throw your snoring arse into it.” said the half troll and grinned to him, she had clearly been awake for quite some time.
“Well pardon my heavy sleeping hearth then your majesty! I will change my devious menfolk ways to better suit your whims” he said in a slightly annoyed tone.
“No need for it, you needed the sleep more than I did” she said and out the last of the embers that still smouldered in the fireplace.
“But we should be on our way, we need to make use of the break in the weather. I for one would like to reach somewhere they have warm food and beer” she said and picked up her own cloak and began making her way down to the road with Dread close on her heels.


Meanwhile the unlikely band of travelers continued the arduous journey to the west, there was a storm brewing in the royal court following the attempted murder of the chamberlain.
Noble men and women gossiped, and other persons of various degrees of power and wealth looked to make themselves and their families safe from such a grisly fate.
The queen herself had barely left the Temple of Mercy since her faithful servant had been taken there, and her royal guard maintained a heavy presence in the temple district.
Queen Charsi sat on one of the marble benches that filled the main chamber of the solemn temple, witch where hardly similar to the other temples that lay in the same part of the city. Hardly any ornate art decorated the walls or costly tapestries hung on its stone walls.
The sole piece of costly decoration was the great stained glass window that sat above the altar that stood at the far end of the room, and from where the priests and priestesses addressed the crowds of worshipers and faithfuls when they held mass.
Her mind boiled with all manners of thoughts and she felt almost sick with worry. She had for some time known that unrest was brewing in her lands, and that some of the followers of her predecessor still looked at her with very unkind eyes, but she had not expected something like this to unfold.
Now however she had all but lost one of her most important supporters, and the royal court was afloat with rumors and whispers of treachery hung heavy in the air.
Draining the last of her wine that one of the sisters of mercy had brought to her when she had asked for something to drink, she got to her feet and looked up at the great work of art that was the glass window that displayed the lore of the temple order, she never ceased to be amazed by the dedication these silent and for the most reclusive men and women showed to their cause and belief, it was certainly something to be admired and respected.
“Captain! Send word to my council members and make sure to wake everyone of the drunken sods that makes up my court from their slumber! I need to address the crowd and sooth their minds so to speak. And one more thing, leave a cohort of men behind to guard Lord Askhaug!”
“Yes my queen, I will dispatch men to wake them, and do not worry. He is in capable hands here. No devil will manage to sneak by my men, I will leave my finest men here” the giant of a man said before bowing to his queen.
Just moments afterward his hard voice rung out and summoned his men and giving them their orders.
As the royal procession moved trough the capitol none dared bar their path. The men of Vanaheim formed a curtain of steel and muscle around the royal carriage, while the mounted Druzina horsemen kept the crowds that stopped and looked at the procession.
The common folk understood that something grim must have had occurred since the queen had so many of her best troops with her as she returned to the palace.
They where not used to see this spectacle, and therefor many looked on with worry clear on their face, some began to whisper that perhaps the threat of war hung heavy in the air, or that some other unseen evil looked to menace the lands of Kels once more.
Inside her carriage the queen sat in silence and seemed to ignore the worried look on the face of her chamber maid.
Pondering the ill news that had come from the border, and the almost successful assassination of Lord Askhaug she looked grim as death, her face hard as stone and her grey eyes resembling a rolling thunderstorm.
As the procession came to a halt in the great courtyard of the palace whom seemed far less inviting now and her maid stepped out and offered her hand to the queen, those whom where assembled to see the queen return from her vigil over the wounded man saw something they had not seen since the last time war had come to Kels.
The monarch who normally greeted her subjects with kind eyes and a gentle voice was gone. And instead they where meet with a woman who seemed devoid of warmth and kindness. Walking flanked by her towering royal guard and the now dismounted Druzina, she seemed more akin to a ice goddess, devoid of compassion and care.
As she walked up those stairs that she had walked up countless times her eyes flared with anger, frustration and perhaps grief, but none of the royal court that had assembled outside the palace to see their queen return from the side of her wounded chamberlain dared speak to her now.
Instead the wealthy and rich kept their tongues and bid their time, for when the queen sat upon her throne. And the various noble folk where given the chance to speak their piece she would have to bear it with all her royal calm.
Sometime later when the queen had taken seat in the throne room, and a serving page had brought her something to wet her throat she faced the royal court.
They filed in in accordance with their standing and claim to power, the major landowners and retainers to the crown walking first and the lesser nobles and merchant lords came in behind them, some with greed in their eyes while some came simply to be seen and to be noticed by their peers and other whom may wish to see them hold their own against the queen and her council.

Missed this update somehow! I want to see more from the hound's POV ... what's his backstory!?!

Np, I have been somewhat hinderd by work and a nasty case of Nugle provided illnes. But I will strive to have a new part up in a few days, and I will try to deliver that, thanks for the comment

As the assorted crows of people found their place in the grand court hall, and the royal palace guard took up position in front of the throne, with their weapons resting in their gauntleteted hands did the queen herself appear.
She was followed by her chamber maid and the nobles that made up her inner circle and the representatives of the order of the Druzina and the representative from the Temple of Mercy that walked with her features hidden from sight under a ornate cape with a hood that hid her features from the eyes of the people around her.
A number of nobles, all whom where of substantial power and wealth stood apart from the other members of the court, their faces set in a definitely unfriendly tone as they watched the queen took seat upon her throne and gestured to the herald to call for order and silence in the room.
When it descended upon the crowd and before Charsi could speak one of the nobles whom where clad in garb more fitting a warrior than a nobleman attending the court seized it.
He was a man of a powerful build and with a long mane of dark hair set in a top knot, his face marred by scars and two eyes that was completely devoid of warmt or mercy.
His name was Haakon Daggerhorn and he was the lord of the province of Heidenheim that lay next to the border of Thessalonia.
The bloodline he belonged to had been one of the fiercest supporters of the would be king that had been slain at Dunheim long ago, and thus he had long been suspected of being a less than loyal servant of the queen. But none dared to say that to his face, for he was one of the most skilled and feared fighters in the whole of Kels, but he also possessed a mind as sharp as a razor and political skills second to none. Although he had relative few friends in the court he was generally respected, at least face to face by his peers.
Despite his somewhat questionable loyalty, he had served as the guardian of the border that ran alongside his lands with great zeal for almost a decade after he had taken power after his adopted father.
Now he stood almost eye to eye with the queen and in clear defiance of the normal etiquette of the court.
“ What in the name of all the nine layers of the abyss is the meaning for this unheard and frankly disrespectful summon? I was entertaining relatives and honored guests in my humble abode when your dogs came prowling, demanding that I drop everything I have in hand and report to the royal palace. And what greets me here? I am forced to wait a full night and half a day before you decide to grace us with your presence! And for what? The result of some infighting between your own ministers!”
The queen rewarded the noble with a icy glare before answering him.
“ I do pardon that someone of such high esteem had to be away from your mistress and soft bed, but I do not care what you feel and think yourself entitled to! You are a servant of the throne and therefor you will obey when addressed by the royal household guard! Further more when someone tries to murder my chamberlain and leaves a trail of bodies in their wake I believe that most sane folk would stand being forced to wait, while I offer my respect to the wounded and his kin folk!”

Not seemingly phased by the icy tone of the queen the steel eyed noble simply returned the favor and replied.
“What befell that old fiend was sooner or later going to happen, being the royal executioner dose not make a man popular, let alone liked. No he did seed his own almost fatal run in with the dagger of a assassin. I say he was living on borrowed time for all the grief he caused!”
As soon as he had spoken those very words, a gasp escaped many of the people assembled in the throne room.
It was generally understood amongst the members of the nobility, that one could speak his or hers mind within reason, or disagree with the monarch over a lot of matters. But this was not one of those things, for it was common knowledge that the queen was fierce in her defense of those she considered her friends and allies, no matter what walk of life they hailed from.

Now even Count Haakon Daggerhorn understood that he perhaps had been too liberal with his words. He felt the eyes of the court upon him, and therefor he dared not flinch when the queen glared daggers at him, and he suspected that it took all her self control not to order him cut down where he stood, or dragged of chains to the darkest and deepest dungeon that she had at her disposal.
Her voice was hard as glacial ice when she replied to his outburst and clear disrespect for her chamberlain and herself and the throne, while her face was set in a look of simmering and unveiled fury.
“ I would have understood if the wife I know you have waiting for you in Daggerhorn was with you here in town, and not some painted prostitute that you had hired for the night! That a man whom has a wife that has stood faithfully by his side for several years is forced to be chained to such a dishonest and outright venomous soul as you lord Haakon I find most displeasing to think of! Further more you may wish to remind yourself that its by my good grace that you are allowed to rule the lands your father held before he payed the price for his ill deeds!”
As the queen said those last few words one could have heard a pin drop onto the floor, those whom stood near the now humiliated and reprimanded lord looked at him with something akin to perhaps bewilderment or loathing, while some perhaps thought the man had been needlessly humiliated by the now very animated queen that simmered with anger.
“Show some bloody manners and I may yet find the will to let this incident pass without any further harm to your name and reputation” she finished and glared at him.
The offending man did as told and took a deep bow as if bowing before a fair maiden.
Some of the older members of the court shuddered when they saw the look on the face of the nobleman as he bowed his head in submission to the queen, but not a word escaped his now sealed lips.
His eyes however said all those whom dared look into those wells of darkness and churning hatred needed to see, those same old men and women remembered how his father had looked when his blood was up and for many of those persons it was a deeply unpleasant blast from the past.
His small band of friends and close allies seemed to reflect his feelings, for they too had their faces set in hard tones as they followed their humiliated comrade out of the throne room and towards the stables where their horses waited alongside their armed retainers.
“That spiteful and ghastly harlot will pay for having such a venomous tongue” one of them said to Haakon as they entered the stables and made ready to depart the palace grounds.
A mutter of agreements and supporting opinions of the queen where added by the other members of the band of powerful men that had mounted their horses.
“Don’t waste your energy on cursing that devil in the guise of a woman, she is not to be underestimated. She possesses a mind that is as intricate as any labyrinth. And she still has scores and scores of followers flocking to her when darkness threats to engulf the lands.” the simmering lord of Daggerhorn said and gestured to his retainers to get moving.
“ Go back to your mansions or townhouses and wait for news, I will send word of any new development with our plans!” he almost growled as he departed the palace stables with his retainers taking their place behind their master and lord.
As the nobles departed and the city as a whole began to fall silent as the evening drew closer to night, a cold wind began to sweep trough the city and its many streets. The wing sang it its mournful tone and brought with it further promises of the winter that was not far away.

In the throne room those whom had not departed and returned to their homes or sleeping places for the night stood in small groups and discussed the scenes that had unfolded this night, most agreed that it did not bode well for the day to come when the queen and the court at large would reconvene for more discussions and debates.
Their eyes also fleetingly fell upon the queen whom sat silent on the throne and seemed to be lost in her own deep train of thought, no doubt pondering how to deal with the rather hostile lord of Daggerhorn and his supporters and allies.
As the groups of various persons of wealth and power took their leave the queen sat still in silence with her face drawn in worried tones.
Her seclusion was disturbed by the low voice of one of her guards.
“My queen, do you wish to retire for the evening? Or should I send for food and drink?”
The guard was one of the Druzina, the famous order of knights that unlike many other orders only recruited their squires and knights from the wild and savage nomads that called the great roiling steps to the far east their home. These man whom rode into battle upon horses that was just as wild and uncivilized as their masters, the riders of the Druzina where known for their mastery of the bow and the lance. And their claim to be the most skilled horsemen of the world was regarded by many to be a legit claim, although not all agreed on the matter.
Charsi rose from the seat she had occupied for far too many hours as far as she regarded and answered the guard whom had taken three steps back from his monarch.
“ If you would be so kind to follow me back to my chambers I would be very grateful.”
No sooner than having spoken those words the guard, whom clearly was someone of rank in the Druzina barked orders in his harsh and guttural native tongue and the men he had under him formed a solid wall around the queen, while her royal guard lead the procession, their massive frames casting deep and long shadows in the dimly light halls of the palace.
Surrounded by such men she allowed herself to relax and managed to let go of the constant need to look over her shoulder, an almost unwilling reflex she had adopted after the attempt at the life of her chamberlain.

They soon reached her chambers and the guards parted before her like the sea as she opened the door and stepped inside. The Druzina remained outside with most of the men of Vanaheim, only the captain of the palace guard and his two senior officers where allowed past the door and into her private quarters this time.
“ Do you wish for us to remain here my lady? Say the word and we will remain to watch over you as you rest your mind and body” the captain said while kneeling before her, a habit she had tried to get the men of Vanaheim to abstain from, but the oath bound warriors where adamant when it came to their ways and culture. She hesitated by in the end she knew that she should take no chances with her life, as more assassins could be lurking in the shadows.
“Yes captain, I would be most at ease if you remained here. I don’t feel like tempting fate, just in case.”
“Your will be done my queen!” the man said and rose to his feet, his axe scraping along the floor tiles as he did.
With the three towering men of Vanaheim guarding her like a dragon guarding its hoard the queen removed her formal court clothing, and crawled into bed, where she felt the weariness of the day wash over her at last. The last thought that passed by in her mind before she was fast asleep where the face of a tall and red haired woman that had stolen her hearth so long ago.


Dread where running at full speed, his long pink tongue hung from his mouth and his breathing was labored as he barreled trough the undergrowth, his eyes where burning with hate and blood lust as he chased after his prey, the white painted devil would not escape his wrath. No the pitiful human would die screaming with his teeth around its neck, he could almost taste the warm blood of his foe now. And the human was growing tiered and panic would soon take hold he knew.
Leaping over a fallen tree and dodging a low hanging branch the hound closed the distance between his prey and him.
The Pict who was running from him was not a warrior, the youth was barely fourteen summers old, he had gotten lost and wandered for days looking for his clan that called the woodland home, but instead of finding his kinfolk he had meet this forest devil that seemed intent on running him to the ground, he could feel the cold claws of fear gripping his hearth. Yet the boy ran on not willing to give up, but his weary body could not take much more, and his pace was faltering. Then suddenly a tree root snagged his foot and he fell face first into the cold moss. As he scurried back onto his feet while spitting blood and moss a bloodcurdling howl filled his ears and out of the brushes came the great beast. White foam dripping from its maw and its ghastly eyes fixating him.
The boy scrambled backwards, trying to stave of his bloody demise soon to come. But to no avail, his body was spent and his legs would not carry him onwards.

Dread gazed at the mewling pup that tried to get back up and growled, this was not the prey he had hoped to sink his teeth into. But he was not picky when it came to killing the white wolfs that had killed his old pack, and slaughtered his own offspring when they had come for him the last time.
With one last snarl he rushed forwards, and like a possessed sunk his fangs into the neck of the Pict that wailed in terror and pain.
His great paws pinned the whelp down and his blunt claws raked the all but naked form of his prey. Shifting his grip he started to shake the pup like a terrier shaking a rat until a sickening sound was heard as the shoulder he was gripping in his maw was torn of.
The prey was silent now. Shock, pain and blood loss had killed the youth.
As the great hound spat out the piece of bloody and mauled meat licked itself around its gore stained mouth.
Lifting one of its rear legs the hound pissed on the remains in one last act of hate and rage. Now thee was one less of the white ones to threaten its master and pack.
Leaving the carcases to the crows the hound left the scene of carnage behind and began retracing its steps to the rest of its pack, his nose leading him back to them.

“Where in the nine hells did that dog go?” Brage swore as he looked around for the mentioned dog, Dread had taken of like a stung horse into the woods while baying like mad.
“I swear if that oaf has gone chasing hares Il be deeply annoyed” he said and let out a deep sigh.
“Don’t worry, a beast like him will find us before we ever find him. And beside, he was probably hungry and took matters into his own paws so to speak” said Ashild as she took a deep sip of water before handing the water skin to Brage whom also drank deeply of it.
They had covered much ground, and where now resting in the remains of a long ago abandoned farmhouse, both of them where muddy and weary to the bone. But took comfort in that the rain and fog had lifted, and that it seemed the weather would stay this way for some time. The only potential hindrance was the threat of snow and the onset of winter.
“ I think we will reach some sort of civilization soon, the roads shows more signs of travel than anything we have seen up to this point. Memory serves me correct I think we are about a day away from the provincial capitol of Kaupang.” said Ashild as she chewed the last piece of dried meat.
“ Kaupang eh? Well I suppose anywhere that can put a roof over my head and warm food in my stomach will do. Even if its populated by superstitious farmers and inbreed nobles.” said Brage and spat out a piece of sinew from the piece of horse meat he was chewing on while he stood and looked around for any signs of the dog he had come to care for.
As he did he caught sigh of a familiar figure that came padding out of the woods and with a clear course for him and Ashild.
“Speak of the devil eh” he muttered and felt some sense of relief wash in over him at the sight of Dread.
“What did I tell you, a dog will always come back to a master that it cares for.”

Be careful what you wish for, eh? I know I said I wanted to see more of Dread but, wow ... that hound's pretty badass.

Queen Charsi appears to have failed Elementary Queensmanship 101 ... never humiliate one of your lords in front of court and let him live! N00b mistake that'll come back to bite her.

Roll on the reunion between Ashild and Charsi!

Well yes he is quite the nasty piece of work, he is actually partially inspired by one of the farm dogs I grew up with. And well maybe she did but I wanted to make her seem like a normal person and not some distant and icy person

That dog really hates them Pict doesn't he lol. nice to see another entry as always and I can see the conspiracy against the throne taking shape.
What will be the reaction of the Queen and Ashild be when they meet again I wonder.

Lord Haakon was in a foul mood when he dismounted his horse and handed the reins to the stable boy, whom never lifted his eyes to meet the gaze of his lord.
His dour mood was well know to those whom served him and they went to great lengths to avoid his ire at days like this. As he crossed the cobblestone covered courtyard of his home away from that lay a few hours ride away from the capitol his mind went over the scolding he had earned himself with his careless tongue from the icy queen, that probably had some rather unpleasant punishments in store for him should he press his luck again with her.
That cursed woman was gifted with a sharp mind and also had some formidable allies to call upon, both seen and some that lurked in the shadows ready to pounce upon those that dared threaten the crown in any shape or form. So for the moment caution and subterfuge was required until cold steel and the wrath of men wronged could be unleashed to set tings right once more in the world.

As he placed one gloved hand upon the door handle he cast one glance over his shoulder, and looked at the servants that milled about. Hauling food, drink and what not as their master had intended to stay for some time.
Satisfied that none where planning to bury a dagger in his back he opened the door and entered his home away from home.
Inside he was greeted by his man servant that stood waiting for him, handing the old man his expensive cloak and gloves the lord of Daggerhorn asked his long time servant.
“Anything I need to know about? Any messages or such for me?”
The vulture like man that had served the Daggerhorn bloodline for many, many years answered with a voice devoid of warmt or any other emotions.
“No sire, noting of worth has occurred in the time you where absent from the manor. I took the liberty of securing additional supplies and beverage seeing how we will be prolonging our stay here.”
“Good, good Albert. I will be busy for some time now, see to that drink and food are prepared and sent to the library, if anything should come up fetch me if need be.”
“of course sire, would you prefer a cold or warm meal?”
“ it dose not matter, just as long as it tastes decent enough.”
“ I shall see to it myself sire.”
When he reached his library he slumped down on the sofa that stood in front of the fire place, he sat there for a moment before he undid his sword belt and hung it within easy reach.
As he sat there and brooded while waiting for the food and drink, and feeling the warmt seep into his bones the lord of Daggerhorn felt somewhat at ease for the first time in several days time.
A few moments after wards the door slid open and he could hear the familiar steps of his man servant whom where bringing him the ordered meal.
The butler set down the silver serving tray on the small table that stood near the sofa and with a stiff bow and creaking bones the man left his brooding lord to his own thoughts.
Haakon reached for the wine goblet and took a long sip and let out a sigh of relief as he felt the pleasant taste of the amber liquid.

“ Damned that harpy and that old wolf of hers” he muttered and poured more wine for himself while sinking his teeth into the slices of cold meat and various vegetables that rested upon the bronze plate, he did not bother with using his fork and knifes.
In his mind he went over the plans and schemes he had prepared for the very important council that awaited him come the evening.
And so the hours passed as the power hungry lord sat and plotted within his own mind.
He was only stirred from his own mind when a servant he did not recognize or really had any interest in recognizing stepped into his private chambers.
Rising to his full height and glaring daggers at the servant in question he spoke.
“What is the meaning of this wench! Have you lost the use of your ears? I said that I was not to be disturbed!”
The serving maid stood as if struck by a ox whip, but she somehow managed to stutter a answer to her simmering master.
“Sorry your lordship, but there are someone here that wishes to see you.”
“ Hmm I see, well spit it out you inbred whore! Who is here to see me?”
“ Baron Ingwar and Lady Silja my lord, they are both waiting for you downstairs. “ the girl stuttered while keeping her eyes fixated on the floor under her feet, hoping to avoid the scorn of her master.

Haakon cursed under his breath, and rising from his comfortable seating while still holding the letters and maps he had been studding in one hand he answered his servant.
“ I see, well then. See to that they are provided for and that they are served something to drink, tell them I will be down in a few moments.”
The serving maid nodded and hurried out of the room while thanking all the gods she knew of for having spared her from the wrath of his lordship and his whip.

Meanwhile downstairs his two guests waited in silence for their fellow plotter, one was a giant of a man clad in dull black amour and with a almost bestial look. His face was a complete mess of scars and other marks left upon him by the countless battles he had seen over the years, both as a mercenary in the service of various city states and after he had gotten his current title. His ruined face set in a tone that indicated that he was not pleased with having to wait, even for his blood brother to join this merry meeting of grimness.
Baron Ingwar Torson had been a faithful ally to Haakon for well over a decade and while not very keen on court politics and such the man possed a far sharper mind that he gave the impression of. Content to let others whom had the stomach for countless hours of scheming and skullduggery work out the details of the treachery they plotted against the queen, he had taken it upon himself to see to the matters of war and the raising of forces to fight for them.
In this matter his keen mind revealed itself, although this was by anyone’s standards much more encompassing than he had organized before. But he had taken to the task with zeal and had made much progress, even if much remained to be done.
Rumbling his disapproval the giant pulled out his bone pipe and lighting it he took a deep pull of it and let out a cloud of foul smelling tobacco smoke.
Manners be damned he thought and pulled out a chair and sat heavily down and put his feet upon the table.
“By the gods! What dose a thirsty man need to do for something to drink around here?” he said in a irritated voice and glared at the serving pages that now had emerged from the hallway with drinks for the two nobles.
As Ingwar took his first deep gulp of the dark frothing beer, a grin found his lips.
“Well IL be damned! Beer that actually don’t taste like virgin piss! “ he muttered and downed the rest of the liquid and signaled to the serving page to leave the great container it had come in at the table.
As the former mercenary sat with his dirty boots planted upon the table and drank his ale with a pleased look upon his ruined face, his companion however had no intention of sitting down and drowning herself with something as foul as beer.

This figure was something totally different than the giant she traveled with, unlike him she did not sully herself with drink, instead she stood tall and spun a finely crafted and long bladed knife between her claw like fingers.
She was a slender and eerily pale woman with raven black hair and lips like a thin red slit, her eyes where a deep blue with a hint of green to them, giving her a rather unsettling gaze.
It was no doubt that she was a beautiful woman by anyone’s standard but few of those that had tried to win her hearth had had any luck.
Most of those foolhardy men had been scared away by her viscous temper and the sharp tongue she possessed. And those whom had still persisted.... few of those was ever heard of again.
Lady Silja was a figure of dark rumors and suspicion, few members of the royal court was willing to spend much time around her. She also where rumored to be heavily involved in both the illegal slave trade and other far less savory trades that took place once night had fallen.
Hailing from a family that had long been rumored to be the hidden hand behind the demise of the currents Queen father and all but one of the royal family she walked a dark and lonely path.
Let them whisper and spread lies about me, I know my heritage and I know my day will come where I cast of the stigma of the wrenched pigs that has always sought to beat me down. And blame their own failures upon those whom dares act and force destiny to serve them she mussed as she stood waiting.
Pondering the resent events that had unfolded, more or less as she had predicted they would once she began to turn the wheels of considerable retinue of spies, assassins and other unsavory characters something akin to satisfaction began to fill her mind and a smile crept upon her face.
The satisfaction was almost enough to make her feel relaxed.

Haakon did not feel like dealing with his two fellow conspirators right now, but one seldom had the luxury to choose the timing for such matters he had come to realize. He would rather have spent the evening alone with the chance to clear his mind. But that was not a option now he knew.
“Greetings to the both of you, I trust that you have not suffered while waiting for me?” he said and took a seat on the opposite side of the great oaken table as Ingwar was seated at.
“having to ride for hours to get to this damned mansion of yours in winds that seems to have been spawned by the very gods, in the company of that now slightly pickled giant there would by some be described as suffering. But your handsome face makes the ordeal worth it” said Silja in a tone that made Ingwar almost choke on his beer.
“I have not heard from the others but I assume they too will make an appearance shortly, furthermore I heard about you and the queen. Now I don’t intended to make you admit your obvious mistake in that meeting. Although I expected you to keep your temper on a leash, at least for now. You know just as well as I do how protective that drake is of those whom she considers her friends and allies!” the clearly irritated woman said and fixated the much larger man with her gaze.

Haakon did not reply at once, instead he locked eyes with her and rewarded her lashing with a cold glare.
“I am well aware of that fact, and had I known that hag would drag the entire court out of bed and make us bow like peasants at her feet I would have laid of the wine. But point taken Silja, you speak wisely as ever. If a bit blunt.” he said as he took a seat at the same table as Ingwar and motioned for her to do the same.
“ Now then, I am very curios why you seem so agitated my dear Silja? Are there any news that the rest of us should hear about?
These words seemed to strike a cord with the lady as she reached for a goblet filled with wine and took a deep sip.
“ As you both know I have been busy stirring up the Pictish tribes that dwell along the thunder river. But it seems not all has gone as planned, I recently learned that a very sizable raiding party was cut to pieces when they stole across the river, their chieftain ended up as a living pin cushion. Apparently the townsfolk where far better armed and prepared than one should have had reason to relive. This alone would not be reason for concern, but the fact that a royal scout rumored to have been present in said town is. And one whom had just come back from beyond the border after a lengthy journey in the wilds that lies beyond that border.”
pausing to refill her glass and brushing away a strand of black hair that fallen down, and hung in front of her eyes the woman continued.
“Furthermore a little bird told me that said person is in the company of a towering red haired brute of a woman. Who it seems are quite the adept warrior, but furthermore she is a acquaintance of the queen from years gone by. Just how those two knows each other are a separate tale all in its own right. But they point is that she must not reach the capitol!

Dark deeds and forgotten tales indeed. Will they reach the capital without a struggle?...I hope not.

The plot thickens ... Silja seems an interesting character - I hope we're going to see much more of her!

Many thanks for the comments, and for those whom has read and not commented. Well thanks for reading, nice of people to take the time to do it. It means a lot to me.

And yes, Lady Silja will be one of the more prominent plot makers, and no need to worry. Bloodshed awaits them and the royal court.

The day was almost at an end when the trio of weary and tired travelers walked trough the tall and imposing city gates of the city of Halsa. The city that was the regional capitol, and the hub trough witch most of the trade flowed and where road weary travelers and other souls sought to tend to their tired feet and hungry bellies.
On both sides of the gate stood grim and silent soldiers clad in the livery of the local lord, and gripping halberds and spears while their cold eyes surveyed the people and goods that passed. It was clear to both Ashild and Brage that these men looked weary and on edge as if expecting some unseen enemy to leap fourth from thin air.
Dread voiced his own silent opinion by glaring at one of the men and growling while keeping close to his master, apparently he did not trust these men either.
They passed the gates without incident, and they followed the main street and began their search for either a inn or a hostel to spend the night in.
“ label me a superstitious man, but I have the feeling that we are being followed. That or I am growing paranoid” said Brage and patted Dread on his massive head as they walked.
“You are not wrong Brage, we are indeed being followed. Brigands by the smell of it. It seems the guards have done a poor job with keeping the scum out, or they where allowed to slip in when someone turned a blind eye.”

“Well damnation then! I don’t feel the need to fight just now, I need to sleep and tend to my wounds. That and I suspect I smell like a old goat and I don’t wish to die smelling like that. But how did you notice them? Caught a glimpse of steel or a familiar face perhaps?” said Brage as his good hand found the hilt of his sword just in case.
“No their stink hangs heavily on the wind and beside, men at arms seldom if ever go about without any coat of arms on their chests. They will wait until we have found somewhere to spend the night and then when we think ourselves safe they will make their move if they dare.”
“Well that’s mighty nice of them but I would prefer the night to pass without bloodshed anyhow” he said. To this Ashild only grinned a wicked smile and replied.
“Oh don’t worry, just because they lack the guts to fight in the streets don’t mean I do.” pointing to the sign showing the head of a wild boar and a foaming mug of beer she continued.
“Go inside, find a table in a corner and order two mugs of beer. This little distraction will not take long. “ she finished and gave him a push that almost sent him flying as an indication that this was not up for debate.
Looking down at Dread whom seemed a bit confused and lost she said.
“ Come on boy! There is wicked men to slay and skulls to cleave”
if the dog could have answered it would have been a grim one indeed. For the dog snarled and flashed his yellow teeth and came to her side.
Ashild stepped into a gloomy side alley and fixed her eyes on the street that lead to the inn, and with one hand she drew her trusty axe. Beside her Dread crouched low and almost seemed to vanish into the shadows that now where beginning to surround the pair as they waited.
As expected they did not have to wait long, soon a score of men came into view. Clad in the garb of sell swords from the west they walked with confidence towards the inn with one hand on their weapons.
Letting her eyes glide over one and each the half troll knew all too well that this was no band of sell swords. These where thugs employed by some cruel and devious master seeking to dispose of someone he or she considered troublesome.
She felt her blood beginning to boil and her skin growing hot as it always did before bloodshed and violence.
“So the rats comes crawling to do the bloody work of their cowardly paymaster eh?” she said as she stepped into view.
“Oi who goes there?” said their apparent leader and looked towards her with his squinting eyes.
“Pfff old man, are your eyes that bad? Truly whomever hired you must be blind, daft and desperate to hire such useless scum” said the half troll and grinned at him as she took one step towards them.

“That’s the half breed! Her lordship said her head is worth a thousand pieces of silver!” said the leader and drew his own blade.
“Where has that lousy scout friend of yours pissed of to eh? To afraid to meet us eh? Or did ya eat him” he said and grinned, clearly amused by his own bad humor. Several of his companions also sniggered while they began to surround the lone warrior.
“No my companion is more than likely sipping a cold beer and resting his weary feet and aching bones now. And I intend to join him shortly, once all you craven dogs are dead and dying at my feet.” she said with a cold smile.
“Come on lads! Kill that whore and then we can see about bleeding that other piece of gak!” the man said as his men surged towards Ashild with weapons ready.

The first man to come within her reach was armed with a spiked morning star and a sturdy looking shield, he swung at her. Aiming at her knee seeking to disable her and leave her vulnerable to his comrades, but however he was not facing some raw recruit or hapless drunkard.
Ashild sidestepped the blow and struck with her axe at his now exposed arm. The heavy axe cut trough the heavy studded leather and in a gush of blood hacked the arm of near the shoulder and with the return blow she stunned the man with the axe hammer before kicking him away so that he was not able to strike at her, her foe screamed in abject pain and shock as he saw his arm missing the the ruined stump that remained.
Avoiding a dagger aimed at her shoulder and rewarding the offender with a punch to the throat and using the hilt of her axe like a baton she further punished the coward that had tried to knife her.
As she dodged a sword trust and struck back like a viper and thus felling one more of her foes she became aware of the fact that a number of the devils had drawn crossbows and where attempting to line up their shots.
Cursing she dropped low to avoid yet another blow and catching a hard kick to the ribs in the process she sincerely hoped that Dread still where prepared to fight with her.
Suddenly the first bolt zipped by her head and buried itself in the neck of a man behind her that fell back gurgling blood.
“come on you flea infested rag pile” she growled and used her great strength to split one man from head to sternum, his blood showering her and the wet sounds of his guts falling to the ground with the stink of ruptured guts filling the evening air.
She half expected a second bolt to find its mark, but before the man with one bolt trained on her could release the steel tipped projectile a dark shadow exploded into view. With yellow teeth gleaming in the light from the inn and the dull light projected by the oil lamps that hung in the courtyard Dread made his move. As the man he had tackled tried to fend of the savage beast the massive hound raked his prey with blunt claws and sank his teeth into the shoulder of the screaming man and started to shake him violently.
A gush of blood sprayed Dread and the man he had in his jaws fell like a rag doll to the dirty ground and lay motionless with glassy and dead eyes.
The remaining crossbow man cast one look at his mangled friend that lay at the feet of this enormous and apparently man eating beast that had slain his comrade in arms.
Seeing this growing ember of fear in the remaing man the beast took one menacing step towards its next victim. The straw that broke the nerve of the man was when the hound let out a long mournful and yet filled with pure animalistic rage howl that reached up towards the cold heavens.
“Sod this! I don’t want to die” the man yelped and threw down his weapon and turned on his heels and seemed to have found his second wind as he sprinted away from the scene of carnage and horrors.
No sooner had he vanished from the courtyard a man screamed in agony and shock as Ashild struck with him with her axe, and buried it in his chest and in one clean motion ripped the weapon out, taking chunks of flesh and gore with it as it left behind a ragged and gruesome wound.
As the man collapsed in a bloody pile at her feet she allowed herself to look around, and she was pleased to see that the number of enemies where greatly reduced. Several men lay clutching wounds that would soon claim their life’s, while others lay still. But there was still about five more to go, and while some of them looked ready to fight one or two looked ready to break and run.
A wicked smile played across her bloody and bruised face as she took one step towards the men still standing. One gore stained gripping the axe that had claimed the life’s of their comrades while she used the other to brush away a stand of her red hair that had fallen down into her face.
“ It never ceases to amaze me how you southern weaklings think yourself such masters of battle and violence, I have slain men from Kels to the norther wilds. And I have meet just a handful of men worthy of such boasting. The rest have died like mewling cowards”
pausing to spit out blood and shift her grip she continued.
“Throw me that swine that calls himself your leader, and the rest of you whore sons may leave this place, if not.... Well just look at your comrades.”
The men in question turned towards their now pale faced leader who where slowly backing away from his now less than loyal comrades whom eyed him with unfriendly eyes.
“Now hold on lads...” he began to say as those whom had heartbeats ago been his comrades began to turn on him.
“Don’t listen to that half breed, she is just playing for time! Il give you all my share of the gold! Hell IL throw in all the coin I have!”
But it seemed the will to die for some distant and uncaring paymaster had gone out of the four men, each one was a scared and seasoned warrior. And they clearly had enough of the company of the fifth man.

One of the men, clad in heavy scale mail and armed with a curved saber and a kite shield broke him of.
“Shut your hole you yellow bellied coward! You lied when you told us about whom we where going up against, you told us we where gonna run down a couple of exhausted outlaws, and not some damned half troll and her demonic pet hound! I for one have had enough of your cowardice to last me a life time!”
Acting before the coward had time to react his shield as a hammer and struck his former comrade directly in the face, sending him stumbling to the ground, with blood gushing from his broken nose.
As the stricken man tried to get back up, dazed and bloody he found himself seized in the iron like grip of the other four whom now most definitely had disregarded any compassion for this wrench of a man.
“ Here, have the bastard! Gods know we wont miss him.” one of the men said and acting as one the four men hurled the disgraced one towards the waiting half troll as the man being hurled towards his demise cried out in dismay and terror.
Striding forwards like a bloodstained avatar of war the tall woman gazed down upon the man, that where scrambling to his feet, and feebly gripped his own blade.
“ Oh my, looks like you have fallen from grace dose it not!” she said and struck like a angry cobra.
The blow connected with her opponents sword arm and as he dropped the blade with a yelp of pain she followed up with a brutal backhanded blow made the man collapse, gasping for breath.
Looking to the former comrades of the man she spoke.
“ Let this be a warning to you and anyone you may meet, try to take the life of anyone I consider a friend!”whistling to summon her gore stained comrade, whom had been busy disposing of the wounded that still drew breath she gave the dog a simple yet gruesome command.
“ Dinner is served boy!”
The great hound whom had come to the side of the red haired woman he had come to like and see as a equal gave a loud howl of animalistic satisfaction and like a cat striking a mouse set upon the defenseless man that lay on the ground.
As his screams mixed with the sounds of ripping flesh and crushing bone, the former comrades of the man fled before the gruesome scene and carried the grim message delivered by the wrathful woman.
It was then Ashild noticed someone looking at her from behind, and half expecting to see some yet unseen foe she turned with weapon in hand.

Brage had half expected the brutish woman to requirere aid when the sounds of battle, and the screams of the dying had began to fill the air. But keeping his promise he had not gone out to see just what the score was, but as time passed he had been unable to sit still and wait. Damning the risk to the abyss and beyond he had risen from his seat, and with steel in hand limped out into the gloom. He had noted that the other patrons of the smoke filled inn had not done so, and daring a guess he concluded that they had someone how come to learn that it was best to simply ignore the sounds of conflict that came from the courtyard.
Perhaps this was not the first time they had experienced something like this, or perhaps they simply did not care. Anyhow it did little to improve the feelings he had for the city dwellers and their spineless ilk.
As he opened the heavy oaken door that was reinforced with heavy brass and copper studs he was unsure what bloody mess that awaited him. But the scene that greeted him was not something he cared to see or to ever see anytime soon.
At least fifteen bodies lay sprawled on the bloodstained cobblestones and above those now deceased bodies loomed two familiar shapes. One was unmistakeably Ashild, her flaming red hair and massive figure stained with blood and new bruises and cuts alongside her already impressive set of scars. The other however was far more disturbing, for like some hellish spawn Dread was busy sinking his teeth into the gory remains of a man, and the beast clearly enjoyed its gruesome meal.
“ By the gods woman! What in the seven shades of darkness are you up to? Are you intentionally seeking to draw down upon us the interest of the city guard and the whole city while you are at it? He said somewhat shocked and unsettled by the scene that had greeted his eyes.
His companion turned to see whom had interrupted her silent moment of post battle brooding and set her cold eyes on him. Answering him in a rather nonchalant manner she replied.
“Good to see you not fallen asleep or found some floozy to charm, and the city guard I believe are far more busy drinking themselves silly or whatever such men do after dark.”
“Well.... I came to see if you needed a extra sword at your side, but it seems you and Dread got it all under control. Speaking of, would you mind calling him of that lump of lard he is busy devouring?”

Well that's one way work up a thirst, and that dog is definitely enjoying all that far too much lol.
Well done as ever and lets hope that the guard does come along and in numbers to bring them before the Queen.

Hehe well slaying is thirsy work you know brother.

Another great installation. It's been awhile since I've read a good fantasy, I've mostly been dabbling in 40k books for awhile, and this is a nice break and is very refreshing to read.

Glad to hear that you liked my work of low magical fantasy then!

As dawn broke over the capitol of Kels silence reigned in the silent streets and town squares, only the footsteps of the soldiers that patrolled the city, and those of the people bringing fresh produce into the city could be hear along the creaking of wagon wheels and the sounds of the draft horses as they hauled the wagons along.
The reason for this was quite simple, it was one of the few days where manual labor and such where banned, and all those capable where expected to attend mass in the great temples and churches that lay in the hearth of the great metropolis.
As soon as the morning mist had lifted and the day had begun in earnest, the streets would fill with people streaming to attended mass and to receive their annual blessings from the stern faced and otherwise silent preachers that served the order of the Sisters Of Mercy.
These men and women where considered to be zealots by some whom saw them as noting more than the extended arm of the queen, and by others to be silent and caring bringers of respite and healing to those whom needed their aid. But those whom had a negative opinion of these hooded figures that could be seen drifting trough the crowds, or safeguarding the holy grounds of their temples and churches kept such words to themselves mostly, for it was seldom wise to go against the monks and nuns.
As they where the ones whom knew best how to tend to a wounded or sick man, or how to combat poisons or other pleasantries that one could be exposed to.

In the cool and silent main sanatorium wing of the largest of the churches that a man now had woken from the deep slumber he had been in for days. His fever had relinquished its grip on him and his wounds had began to heal.
But one look in his eyes and one would come to understand that his razor sharp mind had not been damaged by the brutal would be attempt on his own life.
Lord Simon Askhaug cursed under his breath as he sat on his bed, and endured the examination that the bearded monk where busy subjecting him to. He winced as the monk undid the bandages and examined the stitches that had closed his injuries, as he sat there and wished for the man to be done with it. He knew that he should have dismissed such thoughts since it was these men and women that had saved his life.
But that all paled in comparison to what he knew was to come, he knew that his lot in life was to make sure that the queen and her loyal subjects won and that the foul conspirators where severely punished for their crimes and sheer nerve.
“Pardon to disturb your train of thought my lord, but your wounds are healing well. And I dare say that you are fit to resume your duties to the crown, but make sure not to exert yourself too much. As they will still cause you pain and discomfort for at least three more weeks. “ said the monk whom had begun to pack his medicinal equipment while looking at the grey haired chamberlain with something like empathy in his green eyes.
“ I see, well my thanks then monk. I will take great lengths to avoid any unnecessary exercise then. Or bear wrestling for that matter.”
The bearded monk smiled at this comment and said his goodbyes and left the chamberlain to his own thoughts and the task of dressing himself. As he did so he pondered what would come next in these coming days.
As the old wolf struggled to dress himself without any help, he silently cursed the damnable monks and the sisters whom never seemed to be around when one was not sick or about to keel over from some ghastly wounds, because he would have murdered for some help with dressing himself now. His wounds aced and he felt the very uncomfortable pull of the stitches each time he reach for a piece of clothing.
After some time spent swearing and generally feeling somewhat helpless he completed the task of dressing himself and strapped his sword belt on and slipped the heavy mail shirt that had been left for him, feeling now properly secure and armed he limped out into the hallway that lay beyond the sanatorium.
As he emerged from the sanatorium he found a cadre of the palace guard awaiting him alongside the silent temple guard, in addition to the rather hefty compliment of armed men he also spotted a familiar face, clad in crimson red cloths and wearing his normal if somewhat exotic assortment of jewelery and amulets the Stygian seemed very much out of place here in these silent halls of modesty and reflection. At his hip rested the strange sword that he never went without, the Khopes with its odd desgine was certanliy exotic, decorated with ornate hieroglypts and strange patterns of decorative silver. His servant and trusty advisor never did anything to counter the various rumors that seemed to floath about regarding how someone from Stygia had ended up in Kels, and serving the chamberlain of said kingdom.
“Ah Seon! Glad to see you have not given up on me and moved on in search of a more unmolested paymaster” he said with a slight tone of humor in his voice.
The man in question clearly did not find this amusing, instead the vulture like man with jet black skin bowed his shaven head in respect for his master, and said.
“ Even the blade of an blood crazed assassin seems unable to cure your sense of humor. But non the less, it is good to see that you are well enough to depart this place. I have taken the liberty of procuring a horse for you, if you are well enough to ride or should I send for a carriage?” he said with a hint of concern in his otherwise steady voice.
“ Do forgive me, but I believe after being treated as a piece of meat and prodded and poked by various gloom faced monks and what not I am entitled to some humor. And thank you for taking care of just that, saves us some time. But on to more pressing matters, I need to see the queen and by that I mean in private.” as he spoke he also looked discretely around to see if any long eared passers by where to be seen. But all he saw was the two groups of warriors whom he knew never would say anything on the pain of death.
His servant however did not seem so concerned about anyone ear dropping on them, but he still agreed with his master. It was never unwise to be cautious in times as this with all manners of devils crawling out of the woodwork’s.
“ Of course my master, I believe the queen will also be keen to see you now that you are well enough to resume your duties. She has been here a lot in between her own duties to the land and the royal court. But I fear she has few good news for you sire.” Seon said and let out a sigh of something resembling sadness.
“Oh? What do you mean, have the nobles all ganged up and decided to rebel? Are the Picts invading or is the end of the world at hand?”
“Almost my lord, while you lay and floated between the realm of the living and the dead the queen ordered the royal court to assemble, so they could be informed of what grim deeds had taken place. This however seems to have backfired somewhat, as there was one group of nobles whom it seemed where not interested in hearing the news. No they seemed more intent on sowing discontent and resentment towards the throne. Their leader is a man you know all too well, Lord Haakon Daggerhorn it seems holds our beloved queen and you in particular in low esteem.”
At the mention of that particular name the face of Lord Simon grew dark, and his good spirit seemed to vanish like dew before the morning sun. Muttering a foul curse he answered his servant.
“That vile apparition of pure spite and darkness incarnated! How any man or woman can stand being near someone with the personality of a rabid dog is beyond me! Why her majesty did not have him strangled as a child is beyond my ability to understand! And now you say he has gained a good number of supporters? Well this is certainly looking to be a grim day indeed” he said as they came out in the great courtyard of the temple and mounted their waiting horses, here the temple guard turned and returned to their duties while the men of the royal guard handed their charges over to the waiting compliment of mounted Druzina that sat in their saddles, with their faces hidden behind the full faced helmets their wore while they gripped their own reins and took up positions in front of and behind the pair.
With a sharp yell the captain of the cavalry detachment gave the order to get moving, and so the column began to move at good speed trough the city, scattering the city folk before them as they went.

In the throne room where it not long ago had been the exchange of heated words and fiery beliefs there was now only silence. On her ornate throne sat the queen of Kels, her face a mask of worry and uncertainty as she sat alone and brooded. Having dismissed her royal council even if they had only been gathered for a few hours she did not feel like debating these matters anymore, her council members where wise and well skilled in their various roles and loyal into death she knew.
As she sat there and seemed to vent gloom and doom into the very air around her with wine goblet in hand and the crown witch had cost her so much to win in the other, she seemed far removed from the regal figure she knew she acted like on most days.
Just when she was about to call for something to help clear her gloomy mood away, the great doors leading into the throne room where opened and in came the the towering figure of the captain of the palace guard. His massive frame alongside his shaggy mane of hear and the great bear pelt he wore over his shoulders made him stand out even more than he normally did, one of his hands gripped the great axe he never left behind when he attended to his duties, some would think this paranoia or uncivilized but the past had shown his caution to be justified.
The warrior whom in the last years begun to show more and more silver in his bear and hair, walked towards her with haste in his steps and when he stood before her throne he knelled down and dipped his head respect for his queen and comrade. With a voice that had more in common to do with thunder he spoke.
“My queen I have received word from the Sisters, and they say that Lord Simon has returned to the living. He has departed the place of healing with a escort of Druzina and the companionship of his servant Seon. They should be arriving soon, but there is something else too. Last night after you had retired for the evening a carrier pigeon arrived from the city of Halsa. The message is for you my queen, no one had opened it yet.”

The queen sat up now and her eyes gleamed with a sharp glint of interest upon hearing this.
“Good news captain, good news indeed. I have been worried that my dear chamberlain planned on retiring early from his seat of office. And really? I swear if its another amorous backwoods inbreed fool seeking to swoon me I will be highly displeased.” she said as she received the small container the message had arrived in.
“Prepare to receive the lord chamberlain and make sure that his personal chambers are made ready. I also want you personally to see to that his retinue of guards are doubled. Anyone found lurking about where they have no right to be you have my personal permission to thrown into jail and then throw away the keys.” the ruler whom herself had begun to show traces of silver in her fair hair, she turned to look at the long tapestries that decorated the walls of her throne room, her eyes came to a rest on the one showing the last battle of the gruesome civil war.
“Tell me captain, was it all worth it? All the good men and women whom died on those walls. And the years of famine, hardship and constant struggle?” the woman who ruled over countless men, women and children said and let out a deep sigh.
“My queen, yes it was worth it! The false king was slain and his dark heartened followers paid for their crimes with blood. Peace was restored to the realm by your deeds!
“Ever the optimist are you eh? Glad you have not lost your belief in me then. It makes the day easier to bear.” she said and gave the man a shy smile as she walked by him and out into the corridor and set her nose towards the main courtyard of the royal palace with her own household guard falling in around her, seeking to shield their ruler from any harm.

Two updates to enjoy! Quite a contrast between the swaggering badassery of Ashild to the more introspective, plot-driven second part. Both great fun to read, though. I loved the image of Brage ambling off to get the beers in while Ashild wreaks havoc outside the pub.

Nice to see the Queen's trusty ally making a comeback. There's just something about the guy I admire. Maybe it's the name ...

 Necroagogo wrote:
Two updates to enjoy! Quite a contrast between the swaggering badassery of Ashild to the more introspective, plot-driven second part. Both great fun to read, though. I loved the image of Brage ambling off to get the beers in while Ashild wreaks havoc outside the pub.

Nice to see the Queen's trusty ally making a comeback. There's just something about the guy I admire. Maybe it's the name ...

I quite enjoyed making both, I find it very pleasent to varyie it up. And thus making the reading more intresting, and yes. Maybe the name dose ring a bell?

Ashild slumped down on the chair next to the one Brage had seated himself on, the woman was clearly exhausted and worn out from the road and the bloody fight she just had survived. Even if she seemed to be posses an almost inhumane endurance and will to continually press on no matter the odds.
The other patrons of the tavern where a quiet lot whom did not seem to be further interested in the trio whom occupied the seats nearest the roaring fireplace, where great oak logs where being consumed by the flames. One of her stained hands gripped the fine beer stein and lifted it so she could drink and sate her thirst.
It seemed to her companion that the hot headed temper that had raged in her just moments ago had vanished, and been replaced with something resembling sadness or weariness and something almost primordial that lurked just under the surface, seeking to break free from its confines of the mind of the warrior.
“You know Brage, I have slain more men and beasts than I can count. I have seen things most men and women never could imagine. I have been the consort to a rebel leader whom later whom the throne, I have seen the tides of evil crash against the thin line held by good men. I have felt the sands of Stygia burn my feet and and I have seen the black skinned priests of that strange land preform their ungodly rituals and ceremonies. But do you know what I have yet to hold in my hands and savor?” she said and reached down to pat Dread and took the pipe from Brage whom did not protest when she did so.
“ No Ashild, I do not know what you have yet to find. To be honest I know very little about you, beside what you have told me and what I have been able to piece together. If you have seen all that and still live you must be either immortal or someone whom knows how to stave of old age” he said and took a sip of his own beer while measuring his companion with a new sense of curiosity and a renewed interest in her adventuress that clearly had been numerous.
Her eyes gleaming once more with that hint of untold savagery and adventure as she replied while signaling to the bar maid that she required a new tankard of beer to sate her thirst.
“ Peace, I have yet to find peace and the calm of mind and body that I have begun to crave, and beside. It is my intention to see the woman I lost almost thirty years ago before my days end or before I fall to the blades of my foes.” the warrior said as she drank deep of the foaming beer.
Brage was about to ask whom just who that woman was when his comrade in arms interrupted him.
“ Before you ask who that woman was, know this. If you carry plans to conspire against her I will kill you where you sit! And if you are loyal to the throne as you say I will gladly help you, for there is noting I hate more than traitors that seeks to strike down their fellow men and women”

“I see, well that is understandable. Peace is something most never seem to find no matter where they seek it. I suppose those whom dose are indeed blessed by the gods. And regarding my loyalties, I have always been loyal to the crown. I was raised by a man whom resides in the royal court.... my father and mother went to the sides of the forest gods many years before their time. So I have no reason to be anything else than loyal, and I have seen what the alternatives are. And they are noting that tempts me, only wolves and crazed devils would seek to live in a land torn apart by strife and intrigue.” the man said as he patted his hound with one hand and the other tracing some unseen line on the table in front of him. His face set in a thoughtful manner as he contemplated some unspoken subject.
“ If we are to make it to the capitol in a somewhat fast pace we need to either buy horses, or failing that finding some other way to make it before the snow comes and makes travel much more complicated. Now I have a decent slump of silver left but not enough to buy two horses, with saddles and provisions for us both.” he said in a attempt to move the conversation onto something not so gloomy.
“ Do not worry about your coin purse, save them for something else. I will get us horses and whatever else we need when dawn comes, but now I need to wash and sleep. I feel filthy and that is a very unpleasant feeling to go to bed with” she said and rose to her feet and set a course towards the stairs and one of the two rooms the pair had rented.
As Ashild climbed the stairs and vanished into her room, where a steaming hot bath waited for her, courtesy of the serving maid, whom had also left a clean linen shirt and soft wool towels for her.
Making sure the door was properly locked and that the window was closed to keep the cold out she began to strip of her filthy cloths and the other things she wore on her person.
Soon it all lay in a heap on the floor and her heavy mail shirt had been layed on the chair that stood nearby.
As the tall and muscular woman sank down into the warm waters and felt her acing body almost groan in bliss she knew just how close she had come to succumbing to the beast that always seeked to break free and seize control of her. The very idea of the anguish, madness and despair that would lead to made her sick to her very bones. Cursing her own weakness and for allowing herself to paint herself into such an gloomy mood she poured herself a mug of cold water and drank deeply of it. As she did so, she began to wonder what the days to come would bring. Hopefully they would pass without any incident but she was not willing to bet on those odds. The attempt on their life’s this evening had proven that someone was intent on making sure that they died before they sat foot anywhere the royal court, now if that was because they wanted the message Brage carried with him or that they wanted to kill her was unclear but it mattered not.

Rest could wait she decided and slipped her feet into her hard leather boots, and picked her axe up from the bed where the weapon had been laid to rest while she had soaked herself in the bath, she also put on the heavy mail shirt she wore just in case someone wanted a go at her. One could never be too careful when dealing with the vermin that dwelled in cities she knew from past experiences.
Stopping by the door that lead into the room that Brage had taken she paused for a moment, and soon enough she heard the heavy snoring from a man fast asleep behind the door.
Content that her companion was resting and away from any harm she was about to go down the stairs when a low growl made her turn around.
Behind her stood the enormous hound and gazed at her, its yellow eyes fixating her with a knowing glare almost as if the beast knew she was heading out. There was definitively something odd about the animal she decided for no hound she had ever seen matched its sheer size and seemingly sharp mind. And then there it was its eyes.... almost the stuff of nightmares had she been on hostile terms with it.
“Stay here dog! Make sure no harm comes to your master! And don’t tell him I’m out and about! There is a leg of lamb for you if you can keep quiet” she added on a afterthought.
The hound growled and yawned, displaying its yellow teeth and pink tongue before sitting down as if it understood what had been said to it.
As she walked down the creaking stairs she could still feel the pair of yellow orbs drilling into her back. A unwilling shudder passed down her spine as she pondered where Brage had found such a strange beast to befriend.
The common room where now all but empty, the portly inn keeper where no where to be seen, and only a very bored looking serving maid staffed the bar. Of the patrons only a couple remained and and they seemed like the sort whom preferred silence and the company of their beer. So the red haired warrior left them to their silent brooding and boredom.
Outside a biting cold wind howled its lonely tune, and a fine layer of frost had begun to cover the cobblestones of the courtyard. The bodies of the dead had been carted away by some unseen party but the bloodstains remained and likely would do until someone washed them away or the coming snow covered it up under a thin layer of white.
Crossing the courtyard she walked out into the silent streets of the city, the wind and the sudden arrival of the biting cold had driven the townsfolk back indoors, and seemed to have placed a blanket of silence upon the city of Halsa.
Orienting herself by the various signs outside the workshops and various shops that hung outside the low and sturdy looking lumber houses made from massive logs of resin filled conifer trees.
As she did so she became aware of the sounds of horses and the harsh and guttural tones of that belonged to a people as savage as the trolls of the north.
Turning to behold the spectacle that where coming down the wide street she felt something akin to admiration for these wild and truly unbound men. The men of the east whom had migrated westwards to ply their trades as cavalry men whom put most if not all men of the west to shame with their deadly bow and curved swords and superb horsemanship.
The riders where clad in their signature blue capes adorned with ornate patterns of silk thread and beads of glass, alongside their scale mail the men of the Druzina passed her by, most of the men seemingly paying her no heed and most likely intent on finding somewhere to take shelter from the biting wind and cold.
Their captain nodded to her as he rode past as if to thank her for stepping aside for them, his leather like face broken only by his almond shaped eyes and his thin and narrow lips.
At least it seemed these men knew some manner of decent behavior, even if they smelled like horse and their guttural language was damned hard to understand. Watching the company of riders disappearing down the street and the sounds of their conversations fading in the wind she walked on in search of a horse trader.
She felt sure somewhere in this place a pair of horses capable of handling the snow to come and the icy wind that awaited them outside the city walls and the last legs of the their journey.
And after a short walk down the street she found what she had been seeking, a well made sign hung and flopped about in the increasingly strong wind.

A series of roughly made inclosures and a lone stable made up the place where the horse traders kept their wares, massive horses employed by brewers and lumberjacks stood and watched her silently as she made her way towards the tent where she suspected the traders where gathered judging by the sounds and smells that rolled out to meet her.
Drawing the heavy flap of the great tent aside she stepped inside and where greeted by the smell of warm bodies, horse tallow and the odor of men whom spent more time with horses and livestock than their fellow men.
She had expected to find perhaps a dozen or so men, but instead she only meet one. The man whom was of northern stock. With a sharp and narrow face and eyes that seemed to measure the world around him with a solid doze of skeptical. His thin frame clad in well made cloths of linen and thick wool and he had been coiling together a length of rope as the warrior had entered his humble home. He was clearly one whom had worked with horses and life stock since he could work.
“Greeting my fair lady! What can I do for you this day? Are you seeking to purchase livestock or horses? Perhaps you are interested buying a pair of mules that can haul your heap of loot and plunder?”
“No sadly I have little in the way of plunder or loot these days. But I need a pair of strong horses that can handle the cold and snow. And I also need a pair of well made saddles and supplies for both rider and horse. And I need feed for a hound and lots of it.”
“Hmm I see well since you are somewhat larger than the normal fair lady that comes to buy horses from me I suppose you need a somewhat sturdy horse. What size is your companion? And have you both much experience with riding and caring for horses? I wont sell any of my animals to some blundering idiots who don’t care for them and abuses them! Also dog feed I don’t have unless you buy a sheep and bring it along.” the man said as he laid down the coil of rope and headed out of the tent with Ashild in tow.
“My friend is a skilled rider, he used to ride a Pict border horse and we both are decent enough riders. He is of normal size I dare say, and well I suppose we will manage without any feed for the mongrel.”
“He rode a border horse eh? Hmm a odd choice as for a horse, few people want those things. I have a pair of horses that may suit your needs. I wont sell you my best animals as the damned nobles seems to have set their eyes on the poor things. “ the man said and let out a sigh of something resembling sadness as he spoke.
“ Nobles you say? Aye those oafs seldom know how to care for anything else than mistresses or a flask of wine.
The man did not take the bait she had provided for him, so she suspected that he was not willing to risk the ire of the local nobles and perhaps loosing future sales to them.
At the corral furthest from the tent several shaggy horses with thick manes and thick coats of brown fur to ward of the cold bite of the wind and winter. Pointing to the horses the merchant said.
“Here are the animals that are best suited to you and your friend needs, they can handle the wind and snow just fine. Just ensure they get enough to eat and rest. And for the sake of the heavens give them enough to drink!”
“How much then for the pair? And you haven’t shown me the saddles yet either! “
“Right... Well tell you what, go into the stable and pick two that suits your needs and take along the other things you need while I bring the horses up there. For it all I want two hundred pieces of silver.”
“ Two hundred! That’s a steep price but I can see that the animals are worth it even if I think its a bit too step for my taste.” she said.
Before the man could ask for the payment she fished up a fine leather pouch that had hung safely between her two breasts, out of reach for any potential pick pockets.
Tossing the pouch to the man whom had almost managed to hide his curios eyes as he watched her fish the silver out.
“IL pick the saddles then and I would be very, very grateful if you did not discus this deal with anyone, because I would hate to have to come back and ensure you kept your silent.” she said and flashed him her predatory canine teeth and headed for the stable, leaving the somewhat nervous merchant behind as she did.
With her purchases in tow and having relived herself of a small fortune in silver, she headed back towards the inn while. She decided that she would await dawn in the stable alongside the animals and then when it came go wake her companion.

Brage grumbled sourly and cursed the world at large when he was woken from his slumber by his friend, whom seemed far more awake and ready for the day than anyone should be so damned early he decided. But non the less he rolled out of his warm bed and dressed himself.
Strapping on his cold boots and making sure his sword belt where secured around his waist. Gathering his few belongings and making sure the room was as empty as he had found it the previous night he walked down to the common room with his hound close behind him.
Once downstairs he found Ashild sitting on the bar counter while nursing a mug of some steaming drink. She definitively looked content there she sat waiting for him.
“ Well then, now that you have dragged me from the warm embrace of sleep and out back into the cold and unloving world I suppose you have already secured horses and provisions then? And perhaps even payed for our rooms while you where at it?” he said more in jest than anything else, not expecting the half troll whom seemed to be the type that left the bill for others most times.
Thus his surprise was all the more pleasing when she answered him.
“The horses are already saddled and yes, I did pay for my room and yours. But your bar bill you will have to sort out yourself, the gods know I am not made of silver.” she said sharply and finished her mug of hot beef broth.
“I see and well are you not the productive one today” Brage said as he left the amount he owned the inn keeper and followed after Ashild whom was already at the door.
To the seasoned scout and frontiersman she seemed almost alarmed if not outright worried, and that made him worried too. Outside they where greeted by a icy wind and a few lonely snow crystals that fell silently down towards the world below from a dark and foreboding sky that carried the promise of a heavy snowfall with it.

I do like a good Hyborian tale and this was a good one...........

Many thanks, glad to see that someone can gleam what has inspired me greatly! And thanks for the comment

The calm after the storm. Nicely paced introspection, although I must confess I was half-expecting an attack on Ashild once she was in the bath!

Glad to hear that you all enjoyed it, and more bloodshed is on its way. If a somewhat grim manner!

In the gloom of the citadel that guarded the city of Halsa a cadre of black robed figures sat silently on their massive warhorses. Their faces hidden from the eyes of those that passed them by, all except one of the cadre seemed unwilling to reveal themselves to the world at large.
Lady Silja sat on her mare and gnashed her teeth in abject anger and frustration. The failure of the score of sell swords she had hired to kill the wretched half troll was not unexpected, but the fact that the nobleman whom governed the city had failed to put a tail on the troublesome duo that now had departed the city most likely was not something she was willing to forgive or forget. Her anger only grew when she thought of what Haakon had given her clear instructions about, she was in no way or shape to make herself known to the half troll. Nor was she allowed to seek out the savage and her companion and slay them herself, no he been very, very clear on that matter. And she dared not cross him when it came to matters as this, that she knew was to invite a most unpleasant end to her life and more frightfully to the affection he showed her when they where alone. So therefor she had been told to make sure that the baron that ruled Halsa and where loyal to their cause ensured their demise or capture. And if the fat pig failed she was free to show him what failure where rewarded with.....
Kicking her horse into action she rode towards the stables where several stable boys and their master stood and waited for her and followers.
The servants all bowed deeply in front of her and kept their eyes fixed on the frozen ground, not one meeting her gaze as she waited for one of her companions to help her down from her horse.
That soul in particular loomed like a black clad avatar of death as he dismounted his own mount, witch was clad in heavy barding and with a grim looking war hammer hanging from the saddle horn.
Armored boots scraping the frozen ground the rider took a gentle hold of his mistresses and swung her down from the saddle, and deposing her gently as a mother putting her child to bed on her feet.
As he did a strong gust of wind came and grabbed hold of the hood of his cape and lifted it of him.
It revealed a face hidden by a ornate silver mask forged to resemble the face of a wyrm, the rider quickly pulled the hood back on, apparently not willing to reveal his grim appearance to anyone looking.
The rest of the mounted men now dismounted and as if expecting trouble they gripped their own weapons in their gauntleteted hands.
“ See to my horse and those of my men! Keep them warm but do not stable them! We will not linger here in this wretched place for any substantial amount of time! “ she said with a foreboding tone in her voice as she spoke to the stable master and his underlings.
“ Yes my lady! They will receive noting but the best!”
“ See to that you do stable master! Or else you will find yourself occupying the dungeons of Hellheim!”
At the mention of that dreadful place of torment and agony normally reserved for traitors to the crown or deranged killers and madmen the man went pale as a corpse and swallowed hard, trying to hide his own fear. The man wasted no time in dishing out commands and instructions to those serving under him and soon the horses of the party where being handled like the most precious treasure known to man, few where those willing to risk the ire of the banshee known as lady Silja.
She walked in deep thoughts as they headed towards the halls of the fat pig that waited to receive, what he believed to be a mere visit from his patron and ally, such where the arrogance of menfolk all across the world! They saw themselves for the most part as up and above the wrath of women. But she knew that he would soon change his outlook on that matter, it was noting she hated more than incompetence. That combined with could not be described as anything else than laziness from this individual in particular made her veins run hot with anger, she normally preferred to let Haakon or someone else tend to matters as this. But once in a while she took pleasure in seeing those whom had sworn loyalty to them cover in fear of her wrath.
Although she did not intend to dish out the punishment with her own hands this time, she would non the less enjoy watching it all unfold, yes that would make the coming winter easier to live with and it would perhaps stave of the worst of her longing after Haakon whom she often found herself lusting after, even if he did not always return the favor.
As they came into the main courtyard of the citadel they where greeted by the personal household guard of the baron, dressed in ornate amour and fine silk they looked more like children playing soldiers than anything else. She knew that most of the men that served in the supposedly elite household guard where the sons of lesser nobles and wealthy merchants whom had purchased a place for their sons, and the fact the men of the guard where held in low regard by the regular troops also had been taken into account.
“Greetings lady Silja! His lordship awaits you in the grand banquet hall!” the captain of the guard said as he bowed before her, the man seemed out of place wearing the armor and weapon of his rank. He stank of sweet perfume and looked more like a dandy at the royal court than a seasoned and experience leader of men, his fellow men also had the same air of grandeur and splendor about them and gave her further proof of their worth as soldiers.
“ Greetings I have come to see the baron, I take it that word has reached you of my plans to visit yes?” she said to the captain and flashed her pearl white smile.
“ Of course my lady! We are very happy to receive such honored guests here. Follow me and I will escort you to the grand banquet hall where the baron will receive you and your companions.” the man said.
Following the perfumed captain and his men Lady Silja and her hooded retainers walked in silence, and somewhat to his credit the captain kept silent too, he too it seemed had heard of the woman that was known to posses a rather violent temperament.
On their they passed countless painting and tapestries that decorated the walls and it also seemed that the baron aspired to display his wealth in all the wrong ways. His servants clad in silk and other fine fabric vanished like mist before the sun as they saw the procession of household guards and the hooded party that accompanied them.
If this was because they feared the brutal and arrogant guards or those whom they escorted was not said, but Silja guessed it was the former. Petty nobles and spoiled brats always seemed to lack in courtly behavior was her own experience. Not that it was unexpected from oafs as these wine soaked goat lovers she silently thought and smiled at her silent jokes.
But her mind grew dark once more and her brief stint into the lands of humor where replaced with the plans she had in mind for the man she sought to disciple this day.
One of her thin almost skeletal hands found the amulet she wore around her neck, the finely carved figure of jade with a pair of red rubies for eyes always calmed her mind.
Her thoughts went to the other pieces of jewelery she wore on her person, some where in plain sight on her fingers. While others where hidden under her gown and for only a select few to see. They added their own mysterious powers to her own and made her feel like she was a goodness amongst the filthy savages of this world.

They arrived before a pair of great oaken doors decorated with fine copper and brass works of art, and there the captain told her that he would announce their arrival to the baron and his court, whom was finishing their dinner at this very moment. He also asked if she and her retainers wished to dine and if so what they wished to eat. The guards posted outside the hall pulled the great iron rings and opened the door and allowing their captain to enter but leaving the supposedly honored guests behind.
Once the man was out of sight she wasted no time, she gestured to the tallest of her retainers and the silent warrior stepped in close and bowed down to listen to the commands of his mistresses.
She said only a few words but the whole demeanor of the man seemed to change as she had spoken them, this was also noted by the household troops that guarded the door although they could not have foreseen what was to come.
The man raised one hand and pulled back his hood, as he did it became clear for all to see why he had hidden his features under the heavy cowl of his hood.
His face was hidden behind a mask forged from silver and made to resemble the wrathful face of some devil from the abyss itself, his robes fell away to reveal that the man was clad in dull black war plate with a ornate pattern of silver and what seemed to be gold running up and down it.
Around him companions also revealed their true nature and while doing so drew cold steel.
Speaking in some arcane tongue the lady whom had seemed so frail discarded her own thick cape of fur and like some wrathful avatar of death and misery pointed one thin hand towards the guards whom now barred the way into the banquet hall with their weapons pointed at her and her servants.
With long strides the warriors of the long thought dead and almost forgotten cult of the Draconian strode forwards with murder on their minds and blood lust beating in their hearth.
The guards whom where too shocked and seemingly stiff with dread where hacked to bloody lumps of broken flesh and bone by the Draconian`s whom scythed trough them and left no man standing as they cleared the way for their mistresses and patron.
While her retainers cleared a way for her, lady Silja began to repeat phrases of arcane lore and power while weaving intricate patterns with her thin pale hands. As she did the air around her seemed to grow dense with heat and a strange smell of burning sulphate began to fill the air.
Her eyes rolled backwards to reveal the white of her eyes and her body shiver while she kept on uttering words of power and control.
By now the screams of the dying and the horrid sounds of men being hacked apart had caused panic to ensue in the banquet hall, but those whom where inside found themselves trapped. Every other way out where barred by dark blue flames that flickered and danced as if possessed by a mind of their own. A particulary brave or more likely foolish man tried leaping trough the flames only to find himself caught like a fly in the web of a spider and his horrid screams of anguish filled the hall and further panicked the ones that had not dared to challenge the strange flames.
Furthermore those whom tried to dose the flames with water also found out that that did not provide any result except the hiss of boiling water and the rising of steam as the blue flames seemed to ignore the water that normally extinguished flames.
Before anyone else had the time to worry about what would happen next, or whom would be the next to die the doors that lead into the great hall that displayed the wealth of the baron and his kin swung open and a dozen or so figures in black armor strode in. many of the men whom had seen the masks they wore long long ago swore most foul and drew their own swords and daggers in a almost panicked state of mind. Men of the household guard rushed forwards to face these silver faced devils that had brought such chaos to the court of their master, but these young men and boys whom where relatively untested in open and brutal one to one combat against an armored foe where quickly found to be wanting. The blood crazed cultists whom had been restrained for so long tore into them with wild and unbridled glee, the leader of the cultists swung his gore stained blade in a deadly arc downwards and caught one man in the shoulder, such where the force behind the strike that the blade cut down into the shoulder and continued down into the chest of the man, his victim gurgled blood and crumbled like a pole axed steer while his killer yanked the blade free and backhanded a brave man that tried to strike him from behind. The blow was struck with such force that it broke the jaw of the man, and sent him reeling like a bloody rag doll tossed by a child. Not pausing the warrior lunged forwards and impaled the man with his blade. Its sharp point defeating the armor the man wore and allowed the rest of the blade to glide into the guts of the man with a sicking sound as flesh and guts where torn apart.
The carnage only lasted a few moments but for the doomed occupants of the hall it must have seemed an eternity, but as the last man fell to the bloodstained marble floor spewing blood and weeping like a child. His comrades lay in bloody piles all around.
It was at this moment in time that the last one of the party entered the hall, her long black hair hung like a shroud and her raven black gown seemed to glimmer as the many crystals and gems sown into it reflected the light from the roaring flames and flickering candles.
Her corps pale skin giving her a dreadful appearance as she seemed to glide across the fine carpets and the blood stained marble floor.
She only stopped to look down at a woman whom had fainted and where being tended to by her ashen faced husband. The pale woman seemed to enjoy this as a cold smirk found her face revealing pearl white teeth set behind thin red lips.
As she drew near the seat and the table her soon to be victim where covering under beside his mistress she spoke.
“Baron Asgeir Heidvolk you are found wanting in dedication and ability to abide the instructions handed down to you by the council of Daggerhorn! Furthermore you have proven yourself to be a hideously fat and greedy fiend whom has surrounded yourself with such opulent decadence as displayed in your hall!”
She paused to wait an reply from the man whom seemed robbed of all courage and will to stand up, for all he was supposed to represent. Hearing no reply she picked up a goblet of wine from a nearby table and sniffed before taking a small sip of the expensive red wine.
“Anyone whom has been part of this foolishness and wishes to make amends for their wrongs, can do so by helping to restore order once this matter is concluded!”
Finishing her wine in one gulp she tossed the goblet to the floor and gazed at the trembling shape of the good baron.
“ By the authority given to me by lord Haakon of Daggerhorn and his council of nobles I sentence you to death!” she said and turned towards her retinue whom silently stalked forwards and tossing the great oak table aside with apparent ease. They seized the quivering lump of lard and his mistresses with their gauntleteted hands and held them so hard that both man and woman screamed in pain and fear. The eyes of the young woman where wide with terror and fear and she cried hysterically as the cultist whom held her dragged her across the floor but her lamentations where ignored by the masked warrior, her abusive lover fared no better as he was beaten and kicked by the pair that dragged him towards his soon to be executioner whom watched him with something akin to impatience.
His fat bulk quivered when one of the Draconian`s kicked him in the stomach, causing him to vomit and thus further adding to his humiliation at the hands of these devils. He was dumped in front of the skeletal woman whom had ordered his guards butchered like pigs and his banquet hall defiled.
“Please my lady, please I beg you! Name your price and I will pay it, just spare me!” he mewled.
“You dare speak to me you after you failed Lord Haakon and forced me set foot in this den of opulence and laziness! You whom swore to do his every command and to aid his and our cause in any way!” Lady Silja snarled to him while nodding to one of her retainers whom drew a dagger and bent down and like a barber shaving a man cut the ear of the disgraced baron.
That drew a shriek from the man that tried to stop the blood with one fat fingered hand, while the other seemed to be shaking uncontrollably as he attempted to draw a handkerchief of fine silk from his pocket.
Lady Silja considered summoning the flames once more, and just roasting the man where he lay quivering. But she decided against it, she had spent too much energy on making sure that no way of escape had been open to do so now. Turning to her favored servant she said in a sweet tone in the trade tongue so her victim knew what was coming.
“My dear, hand me the flask of lamp oil will you? And fetch me that candle over there will you?”

Got a real Games of Thrones vibe from that - good stuff.

I liked the fact the household guard were there on political, rather than martial, merit.

Thanks for the update!

Thanks! And well I suppose it got some tones of GoT in it, and yes. I wanted to show in some cases politics and fsvor doing can lead to less than ideal positions being handed out

As the two riders and the great hound passed the gates that lay facing west, the winter began to arrive in force. The steel grey sky began to dump massive snow crystals down upon the world below while the wind once more picked up its lonely and morose song of lonesome as its cold embrace swept across the lands.
Riding in good speed the pair of riders mounted on their shaggy step horses, and with their saddle bags filled with provisions for the road. Beside the pair the great hound Dread ran, his long pink tongue hanging from his mouth while he kept pace with the horses and their riders.
Ashild allowed herself to look back at the city they just had departed and felt a deep feeling of relief that they had departed the city that seemed to be overrun with with less than kind individuals.
But that was not all, since the moment she had set foot within the towering walls of the city she had felt a dark and twisted aura seeping the very cobblestones of the streets she had walked and the inn she had rested in. having told herself that it was only her road weary mind that played tricks on her. Deep down in her guts she felt something tug at her mind from the shadows, and experience had shown that there where often more to this world than what ones eyes could reveal.
Casting of these nagging feelings of doubt for the moment she set her mind to the road that awaited her and Brage, her eyes blazing like flames made from the ice that covered the realm of father winter in his icy domain of Muspelheim in the realm of the gods.
“ It feels good to be free of that cursed city, I hate being trapped behind walls and amongst so many people” she said as she steered her horse around a deep puddle of partial frozen mud.
“ Aye I agree but I don’t mind people, I just mind the sort of folks that wants to part my head from my shoulders and in these last few days after I meet you it seems all manner of devils are crawling out of the woodwork’s. I was half expecting the soldiers at the city gates to try and stop us as we departed the city.”
“ Yes that would not have been unexpected to be honest but I believe that those seeking to stop our journey will try again before we reach our goal.”
Pausing to drink from his water skin to help relive the start of a headache Brage looked around them, the fields where barren and empty and the trees of the woods would soon shed the last of their leafs, the change from autumn to winter made him somewhat melancholic and reflective.
Looking to Dread he noticed that the dog seemed somewhat nervous as it paced around with its ears layed flat and its tail hanging limp. That was definitively not a good sign but he decided that it was probably due to the icy wind and the onset of winter, beasts seldom enjoyed snow and the icy cold that always followed, but in case it was not the case it would not harm to keep one eye open just in case there was trouble lurking somewhere ahead of them. Kicking his horse to get the shaggy beast moving he set after Ashild feeling the cold seep into his bones, and a distinct feeling of unease settling in alongside the cold.

As the companions began to make good speed there where those whom sat in silence and darkness and brooded over the troubles to come.
The queen stood silently on the balcony that overlooked the city that sprawled out below, the pennants flying from the spires and towers fluttered in the strong wind that had come howling down from the north like the wrath of some angry god. Pulling the heavy fur cloak around herself to stave of the biting cold the aging monarch let out a deep sigh and looked down at her own hands. Rings of immense value decorated her fingers and the fine jewelery she wore around her neck could have bought anyone a sizable cut of land, but to her they where just pieces of stone and metal and noting that she cared for. For what was gold and silver worth when she knew that her lands risked being consumed by the greed of man once more. These wretched things only seemed to fuel the greed of merchants and petty nobles and did anything to help the common man and woman get by on a daily basis. But the stoic monarch brushed these dark thoughts aside and rallied herself, turning on her heels she walked back into her personal chambers and called out to her maidens in a steely tone while her whole body seemed to radiate irritation and something akin to restlessness.
“ Look lively ladies! And send for my armor, I feel like beating someone senseless and by the gods I will perhaps somehow beat some sense into one or two cocky nobles while I am at it!” she said in a feisty tone witch made her maidens hurry their pace all the more. For while the queen was perhaps no longer young she still possessed a fierce temper and her verbal lashings could make paint peel of walls if someone did not do what she demanded of them.
As one of her maidens ran like if the hounds of the abyss where after her to fetch the royal armorer the rest of them wasted no time in rousing the other servants.
But the queen whom had always detested having to wait for her attendants to do everything for her began to shed the cloths she had to wear at court.
Soon she was standing in noting but a coarse and thick woolen undershirt and a pair of equally rough looking woolen pants as she waited for her armor.
Holding in one hand the scabbard of her personal sword she drew the blade in one smooth move and held it level in front of her face.
The blade forged from singing steel was close to four feet long and gleamed eagerly as she took one practice swing with it. Its grip and cross guard where made from fine bronze and iron and set with neatly cut jade and ice blue sapphires while the pommel where made of bronze inlaid with threads of silver and gold.
Its blade had runes carved into it along the middle of it while the rest of it where left plain yet regal in its appearance. This was the only thing beside her armor and shield that she felt truly connected to as far as material goods where concerned. Speaking to no one in particular she said out aloud
“ Our days may be growing fewer and fewer old friend! But by the gods what good days we have had! And anyone wanting a fight will be soaked in their own blood before we ever yield!”.
Sheathing her blade she realized her grim mood was gone and had been replaced with a deep sense of ease. She had just enough time to sip some water before her personal armorer entered her chamber followed by his apprentices and the captain of the palace guard. The man who was a master armor smith smiled and greeted her with a cheerful tone to his deep voice.
“ Ah my fair lady! Good to see you on this fine day. Now I take it you intend to bash someones head in on the training field? This wont take long as I can see that you have not gained anything in the way of weight so the suit wont need much adjusting.”
with those words the man and his two apprentices began to dress their queen in her suit of war plate forged by the man himself, he had learned his trade in the city states of Thessalonia a life time ago.
It was made with steel colored a deep shade of jade green and with fine patterns of gold and brass running across the breast plate, the pattern was that witch also decorated the royal standard in times of war, the snarling dragon head with its maw wide open and ready to meet any foe whom dared stand before the queen. The helmet was forged to resemble the head of a wolf, the face of the wearer was protected by finely forged metal and studded with fine patterns carved into the mask.
With the main parts of the armor now protecting her body she looked anything than the warm and gentle queen that normally ruled over her lands, the last parts that remained where the armored gauntlets and the armored sabaton that protected her feet.
The process of dressing the queen in her suit of armor had taken the better part of half an hour and now the smith took a step back and looked over his monarch and smiled, pleased with himself.
“Now then lass, you look fit to hold of a whole army on your own, do let me know if any parts needs adjusting or more fittings since its been some time since you last wore the whole suit. “

“My thanks master smith, I am sure they will still fit just nicely! I will send for you when I am done for the day. Now excuse me, I need to vent some frustration on the sparring fields.” the queen replied in a almost icy tone as she gripped her shield in one gauntleteted hand and set a course for the sparring fields.
As she did so the cohort of palace guards that had remained with her since the savage and bloody attack on her chamberlain. Walking behind her her captain of the guard said in a low tone to his monarch.
“Whom do you intend to spar against? Shall I send for one of the Druzina? Or dose your majesty have someone else pegged for that task?”
“ Send for anyone whom consider themselves a skilled fighter, but I would not mind if you also invited a few of those whom consider themselves a friend of Baron Daggerhorn. ”
“ I see..... do you intend to just beat him senseless or do you have something a bit more bloody in mind?”
“Wait and see captain, wait and see” the queen said in a sinister tone as she smiled to a group of court ladies they walked pass on their way to the training grounds.
To this the giant of a man did not reply, he merely grunted something undefinable and adjusted his belt with one massive hand and gripping his trusty axe in his other hand.

Exciting the palace the procession of guards and the odd curious on locker found themselves in a great open space, where several sparring circles had been laid out with their confines marked by blood red paint against the ivory white marble. This was the place where the elite of the royal Kelsian army normally sparred and honed their skills for hours on end, but now the place had been given over to various nobles and the battle hungry monarch whom now seemed more like a steel clad predator than a noble and fair queen.
A few of those famed warriors stood silently and watched the coming circus and exchanged a few whispered words before bowing their heads and banging their fists to their chests in a show of respect for their monarch.
The men of Vanaheim formed a loose circle around the chosen field alongside the nobles and other court attendants that had come to see the queen train. Even if she had not extended a formal invitation most understood what the real meaning of this event was.
Their eyes where draw from the queen and her retinue of squires and attendants to the group of challengers that had heeded her challenge and seeked to win fame and perhaps the admiration of their ruler in the process.
Stepping into the red painted circle she grinned behind her helmet and drew her sword and hefted her shield. Not waiting for the marshal of the field to adders the crowd that had gathered she spoke.
“Who is first then! Anyone feeling brave enough? Or have you all left your balls at home boys and girls!” she said, her voice sounding hollow and cold from behind the full faced helmet she wore.
The first to answer her challenge was a young man, clad in what seemed to be a suit of fine and costly suit of war plate, he held in his gauntleteted hands a evil looking spiked mace and a shield decorated with his family coat of arms.
“ I do your majesty!”
“And what is your name pup? I assume you where given one at the day of your birth or shall I have my scribes find you one?” the queen teased and studied her would be opponent.
“I am Mortimer of the noble house Desmond! And yes, my parents did baptize me and thus gained the favor of the gods! And I challenge you on this day! “
He was a man barely into his twenties with dark hair, and with thin blood red lips and a somewhat dishonest look to his eyes. The young man wore his suit of war plate with something akin to arrogance and a heightened belief in his own set of skills as a fighter. Clearly he was used to being obeyed and most likely feared. But he lacked the aura of a seasoned fighter and to the eyes of the queen that reeked of cowardice.
Stepping forwards he raised his spiked weapon high to the sky, and bowed before the queen before taking up a fighting stance, with his shield ready and his eyes looking at his opponent.
She did not return the salute but merely grinned to herself, and leveled her sword and pointed to him and spoke.
“Come then pup, I have others waiting and you look much more adapt at chasing skirts than swinging that mace of yours” she teased and readied herself.
With those words the duel began with the nobleman almost leaping at his foe like a wolf pouncing on a deer, but if he had thought the queen was all tongue and no bite he grossly underestimated his own skills. She parried his first swipe and dropped low to avoid the second and returned the favor with a flurry of blows that pressed him back and made him work hard to maintain his stance and momentum.
Sparks flew as they went at each other again, both now breathing hard while their suits of war plate gleamed in the light of the day. Suddenly the queen swore and jerked back as a wide blow from her opponent almost struck her in the side, her shield and the reflexes honed over decades saving her from a painful blow.
Driven on by this nearly fight ending blow the young man came on hard once more, his weapon humming trough the air and his breathing growing more labored as he sought to press home his victory.
The spectators gasped and commented on how the queen seemed to only give ground to this upstart, but there where those whom did not join in on the apparent shock of the other court members.
Those whom had seen their monarch on the field of battle knew she was a shrewd as a drake and as bloodthirsty as a Draug when her blood was up.
As Mortimer was about to strike once more the queen made her carefully planned strike, her sword gleamed in the sun and as the sharp blade fell it seemed to sing. A sickening sound of flesh and bone filled the air, and the wail of the stricken Mortimer joined the sounds of the shock of the crowd.
For on the ground lay his hand, severed at the wrist where his gauntlet had failed to guard his limb from the sharp blade wielded by the monarch whom now viewed him with noting short of disgust.
He screamed like a stung pig and tried to crawl back, while trying to get back to his feet. But before he could do so Charsi kicked him hard in the ribs and knocked the air out of him.
“Lay still you mongrel! You sought to accelerate your own rise to power by striking down your own queen! And are you so daft that you thought I did not notice you trying to strike a killing blow mere moments ago! Now you know the price for dealing with those whom seek to overthrow the throne you dog:!” having said her last words to the now weeping man that where begging for mercy, despite his supposedly attempt at her life the queen.
Turning to her palace guard she spoke in a unsettling calm and collect tone
“Take this man to the healers and see to that his whining ceases! Then send him on a ship to the south! He is banished from my realm until the day I find it fit to forgive his crimes! The lands of his estate are to be given over to his serfs and his wealth will be used to aid those in need of shelter and protection from the hardship of life”

Turning to the shocked crowd that had witnessed this savage act of court disincline she said in a low and threatening tone.
“Let this man be a warning to you all ! ANYONE found to be peddling in such ideas as this man was will be treated as a enemy of the crown! And their fates will be far worse than begin banished form my realms!” the she wolf almost snarled as she wiped the blood of her blade and looking at the thinning group of would be challengers.
“Is there anyone else wishing to fight or shall we call it for today gentlemen?” she said and gazed at the assortment of wealthy merchant sons and minor nobles.
When none seemed to rise to take the bait she let out a sigh of disappointment and turned to her captain.
“ It seems my dear that instead of brave men, there are only scared sheep here now. How little it takes to drain the courage of some men these days.”

Wow - Charsi's turning into a badass in her old age! Her grasp of realpolitik's as good as her grasp on her sword. Wasn't expecting that, Trondheim!

Glad you liked and pardon the somewhat lengthy wait for the update. Now I wanted to make her seem frail in the previous chapters and have her lash out in this manner come this chapter. And it seemed it worked, and thanks for reading and commenting as always

While the queen dispensed justice and made an example of the would be ambitious noble son, someone else where kneeling in worship of their dark gods.
In the gloom of the small hearth of the temple built to serve as a place of worship for the few Stygian enclave that dwelled in the great city, the air was thick with the sweet smelling stink of burning lotus and myrrh and the smoke seemed to mix with the murmure of the two kneeling figures that lay with their foreheads touching the black tiles of the floor.
Before them stood the gruesome idol of the serpent god whom those from the south worhsiped and payed offerings to.
One of the men where clearly a Stygian, his long dreadlocks lay like a cowl across his shoulders and back, while his lips formed the ptayer words. The other man however was someone whom most people would have been shocked to find in this place of sanctom and holliness.
For this was Lord Simon Askhaug and now he bent his knees to a god most of his fellow Kelsmen viewed with deep suspicion and distrust. But for him it made perfect sense to bet on multiple horses and besides it also made sense for a man like him to ensure that one understood how the minds of other nations, and beliefs worked.
And when it came to the secretive and often insidious men and women of Stygia it was more or less a required thing to do, seeing how they often downright despised and persecuted other religions. But these few souls whom dwelled here in the capitol of the kingdom he called home, and loved with every fiber of his body it was more of common respect than anything else.
When his companion had finished his litany spoken in Stygian and rose to his feet he did the same.
As they turned their back to the baleful image of the snake god and began to walk he seized the chance to speak freely.
“ So then now that we have set aflame a small fortune I assume that you can tell me what you have learned from your spies and confidants regarding the rabid dog that threatens the lands?”
The Stygian gave him a look that told him that his servant had some measure of success in his task.
“ The shadows have told me many things while I meditated and awaited their return my lordship, they spoke of the death of a fat and imbecilic man at the hands of the pale woman whom shares her
bed with a man whom seeks to depose the queen. It seems the stuffed one failed to do as he was told. His end was apparently quite fiery and left those whom witnessed it quite frightened, Lady Silja also seems to ride in the company of the disciplines of a cult long thought dead and buried.”
When the man had finished speaking he raised the hood of his cloak to ward of the cold wind that howled outside the temple, and to shield himself from the curious eyes of the commoners of the land.
His master shifted his weight from one foot to the other and replied while silently cursing his wounds, that still stung and caused him grief and much pain.
“ Now hold on, you mean to tell me that the mad wench burnt someone alive! Well did those shadows of yours tell whom got turned into a human candle?”
The Stygian gave his master a somewhat unsettling smile and nodded before answering
“ Yes actually they did, although I fear you may not be terribly shocked by the nature of my answer. The human candle in question was no other than Baron Asgeir Heidvolk! Several members of his court also seem to have suffered a rather unpleasant end too at the hands of that vile woman. Also it seems that his entire household guard where killed to the last man by a score of masked fanatics escorting the good lady Silja. “
As soon as his servant had finished speaking a smile spread across the face of the aging chamberlain, and it was clear that the idea of the man he had long sought to remove from his seat of power sat well with him. Even if his demise had come at the hands of a deranged wench and her blood crazed minions.
“ Hmm I see well I suppose there where more parties than the queen and I whom had their fill of the incompetence of that man and his closest court members, do we know whom has taken his seat?”
“ Someone much more competent and able to keep himself or herself alive and thus useful to their masters I would assume. But the court in question are in a state of turmoil now and will be fore some time as the lesser nobles and merchants sort out old grudges and what not. “
“ Agreed my friend, see to that your shadows keep their ears to the ground and tell me if anything newsworthy should come along!.”
They walked along the wide street that lead from the silent and sombre temple district to the royal palace, the crowds parted for them like sheep scattering before wolves. No doubt due to the cohort of dismounted Druzina that had been assigned to the grey haired chamberlain to keep any further attempts at his life from happening.
The men from the steppes stood out with their scale armor full faced helmets with plumes of horsehair and weapons gleaming in the light of the day, each man gripping his weapons as if he expected brigands or crazed fanatics to leap out of the crowd and hurl themselves at the men of the east.
But none of the commoners, merchants and craftsmen would have been so foolish, for provoking the barely civilized men of the endless steppes where not wise. Even if they had spent years serving the queen and the kingdom their ways of violence and poorly hidden distrust of anyone not of their tribe had shown itself to be long lived. But none did question the loyalty of these men with almond shaped eyes and a faint yellow tint to their skin and whom seemed to be one with their fierce horses on witch they brought fear and death to the foes of the queen.
“Tell me friend what do you think the queen will end up doing with that nasty piece of work lord Haakon? Exile him? Put him on trial or simply swat him like a fly with the full might of the royal armies?” the chamberlain asked his hooded companion as they climbed the last set of wide marble stairs that lead onto the courtyard of the palace.
“ Well had you asked me a month ago I would have have said that she would have given the craven dog a fair trial and a chance to redeem himself, but now. I am not so sure, as she seems to have grown somewhat more irate these last few weeks. So I will say that he will either find himself banished and his lands divided up amongst the common folk or he will wake to find his castle surrounded by the armies of Kels. And if that happens the end will be swift and bloody, he may have a considerable force at hand. I doubt his men will be willing to risk being marked as traitors and enemies of the throne, but I would not hedge all my silver on it. The lord of Daggerhorn has built a well drilled and well supplied force that could prove hard to beat even if they would be outnumbered.”
“ I suppose we will only see in due time then Seon” the chamberlain said as the pair passed groups of court members and gentry awaiting to see the queen in her now silent hall.
Pausing outside the great doors of the throne room they awaited to be allowed in by the grim faced guards that seemed to be unable to smile these days.
“ Hail your lordship! Glad to see you up and about again, the queen awaits you but let me warn you. She is a bit temperamental today so thread softly” said the leader of the guards as he pushed the great doors open and allowing the pair to enter the great hall decorated with the banners of old, and priceless works of art alongside paintings of the kings and queens of old.
As they came closer they realized the truth of the warning spoken by the captain at the door, the sharp and icy voice of the queen filled the air and they could see the worried looks on the faces of the rest of the gathered ministers and various officials.
It was clear that the queen despite having mutilated one man and banished the wrenched soul to exile her blood still ran hot, Taking a knee they both bowed low to show their respect.
Taking her attention away from scolding her ministers the monarch gazed at her chamberlain, and it became clear that the warning offered by the captain was very real. A cold simmering fury seemed to burn in her eyes and her face was one of barely contained anger as she had listened to the various ministers and lords. But she reined herself in and seemed to regain some manner of stoic calm.
“ Greetings lord Simon, I am pleased to see that you had the time to join us today. I know your workload is great and that you probably have other matters to attend to but I believe that what I will tell you all in a few heartbeats will make it all worth it. “ the queen said and indicated that all except the gathered lords and ministers should depart the room at once, all but the chosen few of her household guard left the great throne room and thus leaving only the persons of power behind.

Charsi let out a deep sigh of something akin to exhaustion and poured herself a cup of spiced wine and cleared her throat before addressing the somewhat curious gathering.
“As you all know we stand before a time that will prove challenging and filled with dangers for our fair lands. Once more unrest plagues Kels and once more it is one of our own that seeks to challenge the throne. But this time it is one of our own whom seeks to cast it all away and for once and all secure his claim to the role as ruler of the lands and its inhabitants. But that is not was poses the greatest threat. For that comes from the depraved shadow of a once fair maid scarred by the cruel touch of fate and the evil of men, for she is the leader and defacto ruler of the cult whom served the vile serpent that held the throne before I reclaimed it!”

As she spoke these words loaded with darkness and a foreboding of events to come silence fell across the gathered lords and men of power. None seemed willing to take the word as silence filled the throne room and the space between the gathered figures of power.
Finally it was the pale and silent figure of the lord marshal of the Temple of silence that spoke, his cold voice spreading like the wings of a crow gliding across a corps strewn field.
“ My queen I take it that you have had some measure of advanced warning, beyond what spies and loyal men have told you? But I find your words regarding the cult most alarming. If that dire warning is correct it is my belief that we will need to invest heavily in rooting the heretical curs out! And extinguish them once and for all! The warriors of my order will gladly aid your forces my queen.” he said with a hint of zeal burning in his one good eye while his mailed fist gripped the hilt of his long sword.

Politics makes for strange bedfellows, as they say ...

I like the levels of intrigue you've got going on and the fact there are no real out and out good guys ... even the heroes are not unblemished by the company they keep ...

Fist of all, sorry to all my readers for not updating this. Life has been hectic as of the last months but now it seems all is well. Hope you enjoy, C&C always welcomed

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Ashild shifted in her saddle and looked out across the barren fields they where riding alongside on the road that lead them deeper into the heartlands of Kels, and towards their meeting with destiny.
A cold wind that had accompanied them for the last few days swept along the tilled fields and picked up dust and the leaves of the season passed.
As if to add to the general gloominess snow fell from the sky, huge snow crystals slowly gliding down towards the world below, heralding the coming of winter and the season of ice and howling gales from the far north.
In the last few days the pair had passed a growing number of hamlets and small farming communities, and it was clear that these lands where tamed and its people of a softer breed than those whom lived on the untamed frontier.
They had also seen more armed troops and signs of the royal power in these parts, and that made Ashild feel somewhat uneasy, one could never be too careful when dealing with men that served under the banner of a throne. No matter how fair their ruler where. But none had barred their way or looked to harass them so she allowed herself to relax somewhat and dull her savage mind. But her hand never strayed far from her axe non the less.

To her side Brage reflected the thoughts of his companion as they rode in silence, with their capes draped around them to ward of the bite of the north wind and to keep the dust out of their faces.
It was almost seven months since he had set foot in these parts of Kels, and then it had been during one of the warmer months and he had made his way towards the wild lands under the identity of a explorer returning to those savage and untamed lands with dreams of finding his fortunes.
Now however he almost expected an attempt at his life at every turn, after the incident outside the tavern in Halsa, where Ashild had torn apart a band of sell swords whom clearly had been payed handsomely to either kill them or place them in irons.
He felt for the scroll he carried with him and the knowledge he possessed, but he still dared to hope for a relatively safe journey to the capitol and to the court of the monarch and his paymaster whom awaited his return.
The hard faced man looked down to see the massive hound named Dread look up at him with its unsettling gaze that seemed to pierce his very soul each time he locked eyes with his travel companion.
“Gods knows I hate this damned wind! One should think it could find someone else to harass and fill with dust and muck!” the half troll said and spat while she reached for her almost empty water skin that hung from her saddle.
“Aye no argument there my dear, hopefully it will get better as the snow covers the lands. I on the other hand could marry a cow for a drink of spice wine now and a bite of well cooked beef stew.” said Brage whom was equally filled to the rafters with loathing for the damned wind.

Before the two could further moan and groan about the weather, saddle soreness and their wish for something else than water to drink, they where interrupted by the angry growl coming from Dread, who had stopped dead in his tracks.
The hound snarled and barred his yellow teeth while his ears lay backwards, there was noting civilized about that one Brage said to himself silently as he looked at both the warrior woman and the hound that was displaying his displeasure with something.
“Whats the matter boy? If its the weather you are snarling at cease it! We will all sleep underneath a roof come nightfall!
“I doubt the hound would waste his breath on the weather, his kind cares not if it rains or snow. His kin has roamed the world long before the rise of man” the half troll said as she kicked her horse into action once more and leaving him in her wake until he too set the heels to his mount.
Brage allowed Ashild to remain ahead of him, as he needed time to think and felt the need for some privacy with his thoughts. At his side Dread seemed to glide across the frozen ground effortlessly with his pink tongue hanging out of his maw, and his keen eyes following the horse and rider up ahead.
“See anything? Gods be damned if there some band of unwashed devils lurking around here somewhere! I do not wish to deal with highway men now.” he said and reached almost instinctively for his own weapon. A long time spent wandering along the roads and lonely pathways of the world had ingrained a sense of caution and a equally healthy doze of distrust towards his fellow men and women.
“No I don’t see anything nor do I smell anything on the winds either, I suspect the hound just caught a scent of a flea ridden wolf or something along those lines” Ashild said and looked down at the hound in question, whom stood there with its massive head tilted to one side as it regarded its pack mates.
The facial expression of the hound almost seemed to say that he was deeply insulted by their lack of interest in his growls of dismay.
“Don’t give me that look you heap of fur” said Brage in a somewhat joking tone to the hound and tossed him a piece of dried beef. The massive hound sniffed at the meat before greedily gripping it and devouring it like a starved man getting his hands on a loaf of bread.
The party resumed their trek towards the capitol of Kels in their road weary state and most likely each one of them offered a silent prayer to whatever they prayed to that a inn would appear before their eyes the next time they had climbed a hill, or passed trough one of the small farming community that lay along the road they where following.
Time passed slowly as they rode on, the wind had increased in strength and brought with her more snow that drifted slowly towards the ground far bellow the iron grey skies that hung low over their heads. As they crossed a small stream that lay beside a time worn mill house with a large water wheel, whom for now stood still a smell of smoke and barn yard could be noticed on the cold wind that swept down along the road that lead up towards a large stone fence that seemed well maintained and looked after.
“This looks promising enough, not many of these hamlets can afford to have a water mill built, nor do most farmers build such large fences. I suspect we are about to reach a substantial town of some sort.” Brage said and pulled his cloak thither about him, the chill of the wind bit deep into his bones and he felt deeply uneasy. He never liked winter, and he definitively hated these cold weeks before the damned snow settled down and signaled the winter season.
Damned if he would spend a moment longer in this cold any longer than need be, but he doubted his female companion disliked the cold.
Her hair hung like a great mane of hair and her cheeks where tinted with a hint of pink, her hands that he knew where capable of breaking bone and beating the living daylights of any man or beast for that matter. But it was her eyes that always puzzled him, they where a hint of yellow and orange. And very much in contrast to the rest of her imposing figure, folk of the north had very rarely eyes like that.

“Well don’t worry my dear road weary ranger of distant mountains and forgotten realms, I am sure we can find a tavern wench to warm you, and a large helping of spiced ale and a large chunk of roasted meat when we reach the inn that must be near.”
“ Bah women! I don’t feel the need to feel the hands of a timid farm girl on me, but Id give a finger for spiced wine from Thessalonia and a leg of lamb.” Brage muttered and followed a pair of magpies with his eyes as they flew overhead.
“ Hmm aren’t you the grumpy one” Ashild teased him with a amused grin across her face.
“Never knew I traveled with a old and worn out man in the twilight of his years”
Brage did not rise to take the bait but instead merely snorted and fixed his eyes on the road ahead.
His companion still chuckled to herself as they reached the stone fence, and caught sight of the provincial capitol.
“Well that is a welcomed sight for weary eyes and tired limbs” Brage said at her side while looking about for the hound whom where ambling up behind them and gave them both a dour look.
“Told you we where not far from shelter hound. Looks like we will have to reschedule that miserable night under a pine tree with only the company of the north wind.”
“ But we need to take some caution though, the eyes and ears of less than honest men are always to be found where any sizable number of simpletons are to be found. I don’t want do deal with any club wielding thugs right now. Any evildoers will have to wait until morning.” he said and looked at his companion.
“ No arguments there, I feel the need to sit on something else than the cold ground or a horse back as of now. I don’t think you hound will have anything against to sleep under a roof either, judging by how sour he looks at us at every chance.” Ashild joined in.
They rode into town along the same road they had followed since crossing the mill stream, passing houses that looked like they had been since the day the first king of Kels took the throne, moss grew on the stone and timber walls and the great logs where colored by smoke and the passing of the seasons since the day they where built by now long dead towns folk.
Riding past the towns folk whom where busy with herding herds of sheep, trading with their fellow men and generally going about their daily toll Ashild seemed to tense, and her face came to wear a hint of worry about it, maybe it was just the sense of being surrounded by houses and the crowds of people milling about the partially muddy road that made her savage self feel trapped. Or perhaps there was something else, hidden from the senses of more civilized folks that had her somewhat unnerved. Or maybe she just had the habit of expecting the worst from people, no matter where in the world she found herself.
“ Relax woman, no one suspects us to be whom we are. In their eyes we are noting but road weary and in dire need of warm water and strong soap” Brage said as if to calm his companion.
Looking to his side to keep track of Dread whom parted the crowds of humans before him like a wolf amongst sheep he whistled sharply to summon the dog to his side and keep the hound from making a scene. With great leaping steps the dog hurried up to match the pace of the horse of its master whom rewarded him with praise and the promise of food.
As the trio past two shepherds whom where busy discussing the price of their animals with a third man, whom by his looks and cloths where a livestock trader, they received something akin to a knowing look. The two men, clad in rough home spun cloths clearly knew a thing or two about hounds.
The two men nodded and gave Brage a thumbs up, as if finding the hound they where studying worthy of their praise before returning to the haggling at hand with the stocky livestock trader whom looked annoyed at being left to wait for the two men to stop gawking at such a unsavory beast.
“ I never did ask did I about what sort of breed Dread is did I?” Ashild said after they had passed the two shepherds.
“ No you never did, not did I tell you. To be perfectly honest I am not quite sure myself, but I suspect there is more than just dog blood in his veins, but I dare stake a claim that he belongs to one of the breeds raised by the Picts and the other wild tribes of the hinterlands. That at least would explain why he is so fearless, and his....appetite for man flesh at times. I suspect he has torn apart more than one woad painted devil over the years. “
To this somewhat blunt and grim statement she offered no real reply but nodded in agreement and looked at the great hound with something akin to admiration in her eyes.
Not pursuing the subject of the third member of their party they kept the silence as they caught sight of a weather worn and somewhat sorry looking sign that showed that there where food, drink and a warm bed to be found. Steering their tired horses into courtyard of the inn that where to their surprise covered by cobblestones and well kept.
Seeing that no stable boy came to take the horses or at least offer to Brage took the reins of their horses and lead the animals towards the barn himself.
“Go inside and find a table, it wont take long to stable them and such if there is anyone to be found inside the stable”
“ I will save a chair and a flagon of beer for you then, if I don’t decide to drink it all myself” she said and grinned, displaying her sharp pearly white teeth.
“Wonderful” the worn out man muttered as he pushed the stable doors open and pulled the horses after him into the gloom of the stable.
Upon entering the stable he was struck by the sharp smell of horse manure and the tingling sensation brought on by the hay dust that hung in the air. Looking about for the stable boy or any other soul for that matter he found none and cursed the lazy hide whom probably lay snoring somewhere while he had to tend to the horses rather than drinking a flagon of beer.
As he worked he became aware that someone where studying him or spying him from above, pretending not to notice this he remained calm.

Turing to leave the stable he walked towards the stable doors and whistled a low tone, as a man might do if he where content with his work and ready to sink down on a comfortable chair. But instead of just whistling for his own enjoyment he called Dread to him.
Speaking in a very hushed tone he said to the hound “ Find the rat that is hiding in here, but do NOT eat him or her! Understand” he said and looked his hound in the eyes as to enforce his command.
The hound returned the favor and set of into the barn, his great pink tongue hanging from his maw and his great paws helping the hound to climb over crates and sacks of grain.
A few silent moments passed then a terrified scream came from the loft above, and the sounds of someone in a hurry filled the air.
The scrawny figure clad in rags came racing towards the door, eyes wide with fear and breathing heavily, as the figure was about to sprint through the open doors and away from the great hound that where at his or hers heels, the poor soul found itself locked in a iron hard grip and pulled to the side.
“Now then! Is it not the spy from above! “ said Brage whom found himself looking at a thin and sorry looking boy that could not be more than fourteen or fifteen winters old.
A low whimper escaped from the lips of the obvious terrified boy, whom probably expected a sound beating at best. Seeing this Brage let go of the boy and took a step back, by now Dread had joined him and the sight of the great drooling hound made the boy freeze as if turned to ice.
“Don’t worry lad, my hound would not ruffle a hair on you unless you gave him reason to do so, sorry about that really. I am just not used to being spied upon by people whom are just curious. “
The boy however did not seem sure of the truth of his words and remained silent as a stone, only his wide eyes and rapid breathing revealing how afraid the boy was.
“You don’t have anything to fear from me or the hound, look after the two horses I set in the stable and IL see to that you get a warm meal and coin for it. If there is any problems come and find me in the common room!” he said and fished out a coin from his belt and handed it to the lad as a token of good intent and amends.

With those words Brage left the mute boy behind and headed to the main building on the court yard, his mind where filled with images of drink and food as he pulled the brass decorated oak door open and stepped into the gloom of the common room of the inn.

It's going to end in a huge fight, isn't it? There'll be a window, with someone thrown through it.

A nice slow burn of an episode, letting the characters breathe. Good to have you back, Trondheim!

Someone will definitly get punched yes and probably get axed a question.

Thanks good to be back

 Trondheim wrote:
Someone will ... get axed a question.

Love it.

Glad to see the trio once more, I liked this very much. though, having to wait to see what the dog was growling at and what the young lad is all about is not so fun.

Many thanks for the kind feedback. Here is the next chapter, C&C always welcomed

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As the frontiersman entered the gloomy common room accompanied by his hound whom sneezed violently when the stank of the smoke that came from the smoldering chunks of peat that lay heaped in the great fireplace that sat at the center of the room, while the bar whom where staffed by a slender and weasel looking man and a thin wisp of a serving maid. Around the room sat various groups of people, most where by the looks of it trades men or people whom where quite well of when it came to coin.

But there was a series of long tables occupied by a loud group of men clad in fine cloths and with manners that screamed that they where of noble breeding, and they did not seem shy about flaunting their status either to these mere common folks of the lands. Swallowing his dislike for that type of men he wandered towards his companion whom sat near the far wall, her axe resting on the table well within reach should she need to swing that unpleasant thing in anger.
“ I assume this one was intended for me?” he said as he sunk down onto a chair and taking the flagon pushed before him by the half troll. He drunk deeply and let out a small sigh of relief and satisfaction.
“ So then! Unless you have payed for anything else than beer I intend to get something eatable for myself, should I bring anything for you?”
“ Meat, I don’t care if its cooked or not. I could eat my own leather boots by now” she replied and drunk deeply of her own flagon before fishing up a ornate silver necklace from between her two ample breasts and seemed to loos herself in studying the ornate silver piece.
Nodding Brage got to his feet and gestured for Dread to remain beside the table, he did not wish to give the three dozen noble sons and their entourage any reason to get any ideas of making known how they felt about people from the fringes of the kingdom, although would be more worried for their safety than his own if that where to happen.
“ Barkeeper! More of your fine ale and two solid portions of warm and hearty food! Also a large bone or something similar for my four legged companion if you please.” he said with a smile on his lips as he held his coin purse in his left hand, while the other rested at his sword hilt.
“Also if you could, what are those particulary loud souls over there celebrating?” he said and pointed discretely at the drunken nobles.
The weasel like barkeeper looked the tall and wiry stranger that stood at his counter, and seemed to let out a sigh. Taking two large flagons and filling them to the brim with foaming ale he said as he placed them on the bar.
“ Those whore sons are not celebrating, they are as far as I am concerned not but a pain in my arse. Being high and noble as they always are they are drinking away the evening before going home to their mansions, but not before having broken enough tableware and a few bones to cause us mere peasants a lot of grief. It was never this bad before the old lord went and died in the civil war, peace be upon his noble soul I say.”
“How much do I own you for both food and drink, plus the information?”
“ thirty coppers and the information is free. But don’t go starting any trouble!”
“Dully noted” said Brage and payed the man and walked back to his own table.

He reached the table without anything happening, and set himself down beside Ashild whom had taken of her heavy fur cloak and sat there in her wool shirt, and he noted that the garment did not leave much to the imagination where a man to study the company he kept. She seemed to still be mesmerized by the twinkling piece of jewelry she held in one hand.
“ So I hate to break your moment of respite and study of the fine art of silver smiting, but here is your beer as requested. Also I dare say that is quite the treasure you have there. May I ask where you found or bought it?”
She blinked and almost looking ashamed to be caught dreaming, she replied to him in a low tone, while she patted Dread with her other hand.
“ Many thanks for the drink, by the gods it feels good to wash away the hardship of the roads with this. And well seeing how you have proven to be one of the most trustworthy men I have encountered over the years, and since Dread too is a example of your moral standing I may consider answering that question.” she said and set the flagon down and sinking back in her chair.
“ this treasure alongside my axe are the two things that keeps me sane, and helps me keep the beast that lurks in the darkness of my soul at bay. The silver trinket came to me as a gift from someone whom once where my lover, my guiding light and ultimately will be the one whom sets me free from the curse that is holding me shackled to the past. It is both a precious and yet hated thing. The sight of it fills my hearth with longing and it makes my body run hot with lust for the one whom gifted it to me. As for where I got it..... Well some secrets a maiden must maintain, it dose suit a lady to give all away without a struggle” she said and fixed him with her radiant eyes and a grin.
Feeling somewhat unprepared for such an level of honesty from the woman sitting opposite him Brage took a deep and lengthy pull from his own stein of beer.
“Well glad you find me and my faithful hound trustworthy and decent folk to share the road and stories with!”
before he could say more however their food came, piled high on plates and steaming. The meal where boiled mutton and cabbage of some sort alongside black rye bread.
The kitchen aide whom brought them the food took away the empty beer steins and left them to their meal.
Sometime after the plates where cleared of the mutton whom was tough as booth leather, much to the joy of Dread whom had been given a generous amount of bones and such to devour.
They sat in silence and listened to the hum of voices that filled the air as the night drew closer, and outside a ice cold shower filled the air and pounded the cobblestones in the courtyard hard and mercilessly.
It did not take long before Ashild felt that the warm embrace of sleep calling to her, the spiced wine she had drunk had left a tingling sensation in her body, and she felt the need to rest under a warm blanket and away from the world at large.
Getting to her and feeling somewhat confident that she would not keel over and fall asleep before she got to her room, she bid Brage and his hound good night and swayed of up the dimly light flight of stairs.
As she reached her room she felt as if the room was spinning around her, and a strange sense of warm discomfort flooded her body and mind, her breathing became labored and she tried to keep herself from vomiting. But it was too late, like a child she vomited the contents of her stomach on the stained wood floor and gasped in a state of fear and confusion.
Then her knees failed her and she slumped down and lay on her side, spit and vomit spilling from her vomit, as she lay there convulsing and making a mess of herself she fumbled for her silver necklace and one of the bone rings that where braided into her long mane of hair.
Darkness began to fill her eyes and she began to weep silently as she lay there in near darkness, and finally slipped into unconsciousness.
Meanwhile the half troll lay on the cold floor on the room, and drifted in and out of the nightmare that had consumed her, Brage sat in deep thought and mussed over the days that lay ahead of him. He was sure they would reach the capitol without anyone waylaying them or outright trying to kill them all and make of with the scrolls he carried with him.
As he sat there thinking, planning and maybe feeling the sting of worried thoughts he payed no heed when the door bell sounded and a large party of travelers came in from the storm that was howling outside the windows and making travel a deeply unpleasant undertaking this night.
He only began to study these newly arrived individuals when Dread, whom lay at his side and had been slumbering for some time rose and growled, the low bass tone coming deep from within his broad chest and the hair on the neck of the hound stood as if someone where pulling at them.
“Cease your rumbling hound! Unless you wish to sleep outside!” Brage said annoyed but still, he looked in the direction that his hound where gazing.
He noticed the weasel looking bar keeper looking fleetingly his way before looking at the large group of men that stood in front of his bar and demanded his service and attention.
The man looked afraid, very afraid and it seemed odd that so many travelers would be out and about this late. Particularly considering where the inn lay, had it been in one of the great cities of the realm he would not have considered this odd but here however he did indeed find it somewhat abnormal as this was a relatively minor provincial capitol, witch lay at least five days ride from the nearest city of a significant size. That how the inn keeper had looked in his general direction made his skin crawl with a rising sense of worry. He sat more upright and discretely as he could made sure his sword was ready.

Later he could not remember what made him pick up the goblet Ashild had been drinking from, but for now he cared not about the particular reason for doing so. Taking it carefully in his hand as if being afraid to spill some of the deep red wine he sniffed it cautiously and grimaced.
A strong smell of sweetness assaulted his nostrils alongside a hint of something reminding him of burnt bone. Swearing like a drunken sailor from Vanaheim Brage dropped the goblet and turned to fix the inn keeper with his eyes.
By then it was too late he realized, the trap had been sprung by his opponents whom now where drawing steel and grinning as a pack of ravenous wolfs as they did so, he knew this was a fight he was unlikely to win or come out alive but he would be damned if he went down without taking a few of them with him. To his side Dread stood and snarled menacingly as he eyed these two legged wolfs that looked to threaten his master.
The remaing patrons of the inn seemed to have been hastened by the gods themselves as they scrambled out of the way of the armed men whom probably would not hesitate to send them to the afterlife if they got in the way.
Of those looking to dispose of him there was one in particular that caught Brage`s attention, the man still had the hood of riding cloak up, as if he wished to hide his features from the world at large. But he had not the time to ponder about this any longer for the fearful whimpering of the inn keeper whom where gurgling up his own life blood caught his attention. The hooded one had driven a long bladed dagger into the chest of the man, just below the rib bone and dropped the dying man to the ground as if discarding a piece of garbage.
“That is your reward for failing to do the task given to you! Die in the shame of knowing you failed your master maggot!” the hooded man said as his minions surged towards Brage with drawn steel.
Brage drew his own sword and gripped his dagger in his other hand and greeted the fist man with a swift jab aimed at distracting him, as he brought his dagger in to deliver the killing blow. The man whom held a long sword blocked his sword and twisted to avoid the the dagger but as he did a hard kick to his knee knocked him out of balance and the return jab from the dagger of his foe got him in the shoulder, rending his sword arm useless. The broad bladed dagger had torn trough the mail shirt worn by the man and bitten deep into his shoulder blade.
As the man fell a shadow loomed over him and he gazed up at the yellow maw of the great hound whom snarled and with a hungry growl seized him by the throat and began to shake him so violently that large sprays of arterial blood stained the face and chest of the hound as it savaged the wounded man.
Brage threw himself sideways to avoid the brutal blow aimed at his head by a man armed with a unpleasant looking mace and a short sword, avoiding a saber slash and rewarding the saber wielding man with a elbow to the face and a dagger to the groin he tried to keep clear of the remaing men whom where circling around him. A yelp of pain followed by a horrified scream told him that his four legged companion has sunk is teeth into someone and where busy tearing that person to bloody chunks. Parrying several aggressive swipes from a sword armed man he did not however see the blow that sent him flying across the room and crashing down onto a table. He lay there gasping for breath and trying to get to his feet but the air had been knocked out of him and he barely managed to get to his feet using his sword to support himself as he did.
His blurry eyes saw that despite his fears there was not a giant or some other beast that had sent him flying, but it was much to his displeasure the hooded man whom stood there, with one hand gripping what seemed to be a orb of sorts that pulsed with a foreboding light seemingly pulsing from it as the man held it.
Brage felt his hearth almost stop in his chest as he watched the man, he had hoped to never cross paths with one of the trice cursed mongrels that had sold their soul in exchange for the arcane knowledge and madness that followed in its wake.
The robes dropped from the the man as if pulled of by some unseen servant and the sorcerer took one menacing step towards the frontiersman whom had managed to get to his feet and held his sword as if to ward of the evil that walked towards him.
“ Lower the sword child and hand over what belongs to my mistresses! And I may allow you to die relatively fast” he said in a sinister tone as if to make clear how outclassed his foe where.
“ Splendid sword work I must say, if you where a man for hire I would pay good coin for your skill but alas you must die!” the sorcerer said and stopped just out of sword length from Brage.
He could not see Dread and assumed that the hound was either dead or had run away in fear of the artist of the dark arts that had revealed himself.
“ Toss yourself of a cliff you arse!” Brage said and spat at the man, if he where to die by the hands of this....thing camouflaged as a man he would die with some measure of dignity at last he decided.
“ What foul language! I think I take offense to your manners you primitive dog!” said the sorcerer and as if slapping a child sent Brage reeling with a gesture of his free hand.
He landed hard and felt his head spin wildly as he lay there with the sharp tang of blood in his mouth.
“ Hold him!” he heard the devil say to his remaing men and he felt gloved hands gripping him and forcing him to his knees.
“I have changed my mind, you will die slowly and in great pain! A complete lack of manners and absolute disrespect for someone you should kneel before I will not have” said his foe as his two minions held the dazed man between them and a third stood ready with a axe should the soon dead man get any ideas.
As the sorcerer put away the orb that had gone black and cold now, and drew a slender and unpleasant looking knife and looked ready to slit his throat the room erupted in mayhem and mindless savagery.

another cliff hanger! my dear man this is simply too much. What of Ashild, what of the dog? And who the feth is this sorcerer?

Well I am a tease amongst other things await and see my man

She had awoken in a pool of her own vomit and sickness, the abhorrent stink made her grin and swear foully as she pushed herself up from the floor and swayed for a moment on her feet.
Her mouth was filled with the taste of burnt bone and something resembling the taste of burnt tar. This along the fact that she had violently vomited and collapsed in a trembling heap on the floor told her enough, someone had slipped a potent sleeping potion or maybe some exotic poison into her gobbet of wine. She vowed to have a word with the inn keeper when she got her hands on him, but as she did so her ears where filled with something akin to someone puncturing a wine skin filled with air. The faint resonance in the floor and the fine line of dust that fell from the roof above her head, then she felt it. Her silver trinket burnt against her breasts and the copper and bone totems woven into her hair felt warm against her scalp. She now knew whom had drugged and made her tremble like a child on the floor as the poison had tried to overwhelm her but had come up short against her body whom where highly resistant to such foul things.
Bending down and picking up her axe, that had been dropped unceremoniously dropped as she had stumbled into the room before collapsing she felt the weight of the weapon in her hands and felt a sense of calm finding her boiling mind, yes it was time to shed blood and let the red ruin of fury.
As she stalked trough the gloominess of the silent second floor of the tavern she stepped in something wet that was definitively not water or wine. Looking down she saw that she was standing in a pool of crimson red blood, looking around for the source she saw it. A girl no older than perhaps seventeen lay on her side, her eyes wide in fear and her wool dress stained with blood that flowed from her cut throat.
The half troll bent down and closed the eyes of the child and paused a moment to offer a silent prayer for the dead girl whom had been so brutally torn out of this life.
As she rose to her full height the warrior woman readied her axe and walked onwards to the stairs leading down to the common room and her foes that no doubtlessly awaited her there.
The stink of sorcery and its decrepit caster assailed her nostrils as she reached the top of the stairs and she felt the bezerker rage growing in her mind as she heard the voice of the serpent and his cruel minions coming from below. It was all she needed to edge her over the edge and into the dark abyss of the blood fury, the red haze welcomed her in its warm and familiar depths.

The first man to feel her blood rage was a man standing with his back to her as she came down the stairs in a great tiger like leap, she struck him hard in the lower back with her full weight and strength. The blow splintering bone and sending the man tumbling down to the floor with a tortured cry of anguish and surprise. But the man had not time to cry out in pain again, for the warrior woman swung her axe down hard and split his skull down to the teeth. The remaing men turned to see this new foe of theirs snarl at them like a wild animal.
The sorcerer gazed at the warrior woman clad in her heavy mail shirt and gripping her axe dripping with blood.
“ And here come the last of the savages come! Kill her and then set this place aflame! I will dispose of this swine here” he said and pointed to Brage whom had fixed his soon to be killer with a evil glare as he tried to gather the strength take at least one of these devils with him to the grave.
To the threats from the artist of the dark arts Ashild did not reply. As soon as the vulture had finished speaking she was moving, her axe blocked blows and bit hard in return.
A man found himself on the receiving end of the axe hammer and staggered backwards, his eyes blurred and his head ringing from the powerful blow but before he could shake the effects of the axe rose again and fell hard, catching him in the shoulder and biting deep into his chest.
Using the dead man as a improvised shield Ashild lifted him with one hand and shielded herself from a crossbow bolt shot at her from across the room, the heavy bolt biting deep into the back of the dead man. Her foes where skilled in the ways of fighting and swarmed her like wolves hounding a great bear, and she found herself pressed hard as she head butted a man and punched him hard in the face, sending him sprawling with a broken and bleeding nose.
The fight became a blur of steel, movement and the sickening crunch of breaking bone and tearing flesh.
She had just dodged a sword trust from a man carrying a longsword and a kite shield when something akin to a wind gust sent her tumbling across the bloodstained floor and over the corps of a dead patron whom lay face down.
“Enough of this nonsense, if you stumbling charlatans cant kill this braided savage I will have to do it myself.” the sorcerer said and stepped towards her, with a curved sword in his hands and a eerily aura of pale light coming from his other hand whom where gripping a tear shaped stone.
Ashild got to her feet and looked at this new foe of hers and felt a slight chill running down her back as she did.
He bore all the trademarks of a man devoid of any warmt or loyalty in her eyes, his body a mere corrupted husk and shelter for the evil spirit that seemed to dwell within almost all men whom had taken up the dark arts.
“ Bah you do not scare my vulture! Your tricks and devious schemes will not save you from my axe! Anyone whom takes the life of the defenseless can not claim to be anything else than a coward” she growled and spat on the floor and gripped her axe.
“ You want to see my blood on your blade? Come then! If you are man enough for it!” she said in sheer spite towards the man and his illusions of his own ability to scare those whom surrounded him with his foul arts.
The remaing henchmen did as ordered and held back from the snarling half troll that had taken a bloody toll on their number, and even now growled in defiance against their master.
The sorcerer approached her with confident steps and he leaped into the attack like a pouncing wolf upon a deer. His sword aimed at her gut while his lips formed the incantations of a spell that he intended to hurl at this uncivilized wench. She blocked his first blow and returned with a sharp and wickedly fast swipe aimed at his left side intended to cripple him or blunt his ability to fight. He parried and flung a stream of oozing black smoke at her, narrowly missing her and instead the ink like smoke dissipated into the air and left a acrid stink that filled the room.
The pair swung and jabbed at each other like two mad dancers at some twisted and deadly form of theater as each of them sought the means to strike the other down and end this.
Ashild swore as she felt the sharp tip of the sword of her foe nick her just below the eye, she had barely avoided the series of sharp swings and jabs delivered by the man she was fighting.
His skill with the blade was great, much greater than she had expected from someone whom she suspected spent weeks and weeks pouring over dusty old tomes and scrolls found in some long abandoned crypt or decrepit city of the far south. Throwing herself onto the floor and roiling fast to the right she narrowly managed to avoid another one of those damned puffs of ink like smoke thrown out by the man.
“ Getting desperate are we?” he teased as he hurled a knife after the half troll, the blade missed but it allowed him time to close the gap between them and gave him a chance to strike at her with his weapon. She did not reply but merely grunted and much to his surprise she hurled one of the massive oaken chairs that stood well within arms reach at him with all her strength.

The chair hit him like a stone striking a bird and the man tumbled backwards as splinters of the chair flew everywhere around him, it had not been a deadly blow but he bled from several minor cuts in his face and he felt blood in his mouth as he regained his pose with sword in hand.
“ Desperate? No I have not been desperate since the last great battle of the war I took part in some thirty years ago you coward!” she growled as she rushed towards him and in a display of her martial skills she ducked under his guard and came up with a hammer like blow that connected with his jaw and made the man drop to the ground like he had been struck with a axe in the head.
He tried to raise the hand that gripped the stone that now glowed like an ember but as he did so the great axe fell once and took of that limb at the elbow.
The man wailed in abject pain and shock as he watched his limp limb being kicked away by the red haired devil that now loomed over him.
“Now then! Do not wander of and die just yet! I shall deal with your servants before I allow you to even think about death!”
The men whom had been watching their master fight against this red haired devil seemed unwilling to continue this now lost fight of theirs.
“Whom will be next to die? Or will you all run away screaming like children?” the warrior woman teased as she stalked towards them with murder in her eyes.
The men did not seem interested in finding out just how much fight remained in the bloodstained woman, and the handful of them turned on their heels and raced for the door.
Ashild hurled her axe after one of them and the heavy axe struck one man in the back, the man gave a tortured scream as he fell down and a second equally tortured scream as the axe was torn free from the red ruin that was the gaping wound in his back.
The rest of the men slipped out of the courtyard and ran like whipped dogs through the all but empty streets of the town, they paused near the live stock pens outside the city and stood almost bent double as they heaved for breath and courage to look for the horses they had left in the care of some of the cattle traders that had camped around here somewhere. Then it was one of them said in a fearful and low tone, “ Oi did anyone of you lads see where Sigurd and Snorri went? Or did that hag get her pawns on them?”
“No they where right behind me as we left that damned place, but I know for certain than Morg never got out, I heard him scream just as I ran out the door.”
Just as he has said those words a baleful how rose up from somewhere in the town that lay beyond them and the men knew then that they would never see those two whom where missing again.
“Oh that is just peachy ain’t it! That damned hound got them! I swear on all the gods in this world I am done with this sort of work!” the same man said and spat some of the blood that had run down from his ruined nose and into his mouth onto the muddy ground at his feet.
“ Well at least that freak is no more ain’t he?”
“Aye he is dead as a door nail for sure that one! Good riddance I say!”

I liked the description with the axe during the fight. It was most entertaining to hear the blow by blow account but also the moments you chose to speed up the delivery. well done, hope to hear more soon

Well glad You approve, i was sort of lost on how do penn this figth. Something about a magic wielder Vs a "standard" figther so to speak.

It come off pretty well TBH, so no worries there. Though the chapter did seem to end suddenly. It felt like there was more to be said as it felt like it was leading to something at the end.

Well I sort of run out of things to put in it tbh, but I will pick up the thread in the next one

Good man I'l await the next installment eagerly.

You can't beat a good bar room brawl! Nicely described, Trondheim. I particularly liked the beaten minions fleeing and reckoning their losses ... I approve that the hound got the last word!

In the bloodstained and wrecked common room there was none stirring except for Brage whom, had gotten to his feet and tried to keep himself upright, but the pain still stung his body like hot iron on exposed flesh. He looked around and tried to count the dead that lay around him.
He counted at least thirteen of his foes laying silent in various unnatural shapes and postures, their bloody corpses broken and spent. There where several others whom had been killed too, most of them where patrons whom had tried to resist the devils but to no avail.
Then he saw that vile serpent of a man that had been the cause of all this mayhem and bloodshed, the cretin lay sprawled on the floor with blood pooling out from his severed arm. And over the foul serpent of a man loomed Ashild in all her imposing figure. A dark cloud seemed to have settled over her and devoid her of all traces of human emotion as she seemed intent on interrogating the maimed man and perhaps making him pay all the more for his actions towards the poor bar keeper and the dead girl whom lay silent and cold upstairs.
She gripped the man by the throat and his bleeding stump like a snake seizing a mouse, and as she began to question the man she squeezed his maimed arm, thus drawing a tortured moan of pain from him.
Brage found that he had no stomach for watching the she devil torturing the dying man for information, and meanwhile giving him a taste of is own terror before he died. Limping outside into the gloom outside he drew his bone pipe and stuffed it with the strong tobacco he had left in the leather pouch he carried on him.
Leaning back and supporting himself against the wall he drew a deep puff of smoke and let out a long stream of bluish smoke, he tried to feel if he had broken any bones or where bleeding badly.
Feeling none of those things the man let out a deep sigh of relief and felt himself awash with weariness now.
“ Damned this! Damn it all to the abyss and beyond! Just when a poor soul is beginning to feel rested some arse needs to stir up a hornets nest like this!” he muttered somewhat annoyed to himself, as he stood there smoking and feeling the sting of both pain and anger.
He stood there in silence and listened to the horrific screams of the man, whom where being tortured for answers inside, the sickening stink of burnt flesh began to drift out of the door, whom had been knocked of its hinges under the fight that had raged inside not long ago.
His nostrils assailed by this foul stench, the wounded man began to limp away from the inn and towards the barn. A place he hoped where devoid of half trolls, henchmen and other various unruly parties. As the world weary man found a hay pile to rest his weary bones in, there where others beginning to stir.

The throne room was silent as the grave, no courtiers and no servants milled about. Nor did the muttered voices of the people whom normally filled the room heard. Instead there where only silence as the queen sat alone on her throne only surrounded by the grim faced royal guard whom stood silent as granite statues in the shadowy alcoves along the walls.
Queen Charsi sat buried in a massive heap pile of letters and scrolls delivered to her by various messengers. Her face set in a neutral tone as she read these things, her mind awash with thoughts of war and betrayal and the looming possibility of the gruesome reality of a second civil war.
She had always liked these silent hours of the early mornings before the court was assembled and her attention demanded by those whom knelt at her feet.
“Bah enough of these damned things!” she said and began to put away the mass of letters and reaching for her goblet filled with a expensive white wine from the south.
“Captain if you have time to spare send my thanks to the wine merchant, and you may begin to let whomever feels the need to see me this day in.”
“I will do that my queen! From what I have heard they are quite unruly this day, I would send for some cotton to help shield your ears from the worst noise and cackle.” the bear like man said as he gestured to his fellow guardsmen to open the great doors that lead into the throne room.
“Tell me something I don’t already know Captain, this rabble makes more noise than a swarm of seagulls trailing a fishing boat” the queen said.
The captain of the guard stood in grim silence and surveyed the mass of people whom drifted past him, and into the throne room. It was a varied lot, everything from thanes from the very edges of the kingdom whom had come to ask for more troops, coin to maintain the border forts or some other practical form of aid. There was merchants whom came to argue why they should pay less tax or if they came from abroad they would seek permission to set up trade with the kingdom of Kels.
These folks did not cause him much worry since they very, very seldom caused anything else than annoyance and a lot of noise, but then again it was these men and women he where skeptical towards. No that feeling he reserved for the various power hungry barons and dukes that had grown wealthy and ruthless on the toils of their serfs and various underlings. They where in his mind like serpents whom had not one ounce of honesty in them, and deserved noting but the feel of the executioners axe should they stray from their place or show any sign of delusions of grandeur.
And in the weeks that had gone by more of these vipers had begun to appear, although no one had yet dared to openly defy the rule of their queen.
One in particular made his skin crawl with worry and the wish to bury his axe in the skull of that wolf in the disguise of a man whom had sworn loyalty to the queen several years ago. Even after the less that noble actions of his deceased father.
Lord Haakon Daggerhorn stood alone and looking grim, his weather worn features set as if in stone. None of the people whom normally followed at his heels had wisely stayed away from his this day, his mood was dark and his sword hand opened and closed as if it had its own will.
The lord whom as of late had come to stand in stark opposition to his monarch whom now viewed him less than kindly, he regretted allowing his mouth to run rampant and thus setting the old lioness on edge, and thus turning much of the court towards him or at least making them vary towards him.

“Curse this damned world, and curse that razor minded woman!” he said under his breath as he watched the towering form of the palace guard captain almost stalk by him. Suspicion worn clear for all too see on his battle scarred and bearded face as he looked him over, but beside from the look of suspicion noting else where to be seen on the face of the man whom carried the great two handed axe that signaled his statues as the commander of that cadre of elite warriors sworn to protect the queen into death.
Looking about to survey the lay of the land so to speak he looked at the various minor nobles and merchant lords that looked around them in a similar manner. His eyes came to rest on several of the noble women whom wore dresses that left little to the imagination for anyone interested in inspecting their form and figure.
“ Oh how I long for your company my dear Silja” he muttered to himself and took a goblet of wine from a passing servant and drank deeply of it and letting out a deep sigh of longing and perhaps frustration. He knew he would not be addressed by the queen this day or any day in the near future, not in public at least. This was a mixed blessing but he knew he had acted to early when he had lashed out at her the last time he had been summoned to the court. But it mattered not in the long run and his schemes where moving along as they should, but he knew that discovery would mean disaster and a grisly demise for him and his fellow conspirators. As he stood there and brooded and watched the line of people seeking to speak with their monarch filed forwards according to rank, wealth and statue, he became aware of someone watching him from afar, it felt as if his hair where tingling and his sword hand seeked the hilt of the longsword he carried at his side.

The powerful lord of Daggerhorn turned to see whom where watching him and much to his surprise it was a pale figure, clad in dark robes of flowing silk and a thin veil of fine gossamer across the figures feminine face. The lord walked towards this until now unseen observer, curious to find out whom this robed figure was.
“Greetings fair lady, I believe we have not before? New to the court?” he asked in a friendly tone.
“ New to the court? Clearly my lord we have been apart for far too long” the pale figure said and removed her veil, revealing a slender face and long raven black hair that flowed like water down her shoulders.
“ My dear Silja! I did not expect you back for at least a week or more, I thought you would be busy with chasing down your prey? “ he said in genuine surprise as he placed his hands around the willowy figure of the lady and held her close to him.
“ Well fate wanted it otherwise my dear, lets just say I had to ignite a bit of extra effort in the court of a baron whom had failed to serve you as instructed. That and I hate being stuck out in the rural hinterlands chasing ghosts. I set one of my best servants on the matter at hand and returned earlier than expected to your loving embrace instead.” the woman whom many in this very court whispered about when they discussed witchery or some other dark deeds that had no logical explanation.
“I see.... Well I sincerely hope you did not create too many open seats in that court. Would be a shame to have to start sorting out a quarrel between that oafs sons”
“ Do not worry my dear, I left someone far more capable in charge. And as a added measure I left behind a good number of spies and other agents in that place, a hint of fear of the unknown makes men far more willing to do their job efficiently I find” she said and smiled a thin smile before leaning in and giving her lover a deep kiss.
Returning the kiss Haakon felt some of the worries that had been resting on his shoulders slip away as his lover, and in many ways most vital supporter had returned to his side here in this den of wolves.
“ I received a messenger pigeon from Ingwar today, it seems he is soon finished with his most important preparations and he will soon be heading to the border marchers to meet with the tribal leaders of several Pict tribes, it seems our dear ally is intent on using those woad painted savages as a distraction when the time comes to shed blood.” said Haakon in a whisper to Silja as he leaned in towards her as if to kiss her.
“ Oh my, he is indeed a troublesome one for those whom he deems worthy of lighting a fire under” the thin sorceress almost giggled as she imagined the effects of such an success.

As the pair stood there in one of the alcoves and basked in the company of each other they found themselves under the gaze of someone whom looked at the pair with suspicion and more than a hint of cold hate burning in his eyes. The royal chamberlain stood on a small balcony that looked out over the throne room and studied the gathered court and took notes as he surveyed the crowds below. He had watched the baron of Daggerhorn standing alone and without any followers, and somehow it made the man seem far more menacing than he did when he was followed by the normal pack of supporters and would be friends, and then when that ghost like lover of his had come almost drifting along he was sure he would cry out in surprise, that woman was by all accounts at least one week away from the capitol or so his spies had reported.
Turning to one of his most trusted men with a frown on his face the man spoke in a cold tone.
“ See to that those two are followed at all times! But make damned sure it is done subtlety! I do not wish to loose anyone to those two down there”

I sympathise with Brage - bar room brawling loses its appeal as you get a few more miles on the clock! Nice change of pace back to the intrigue at court, too.

Thanks for the update, Trondheim!

 Necroagogo wrote:
I sympathise with Brage - bar room brawling loses its appeal as you get a few more miles on the clock! Nice change of pace back to the intrigue at court, too.

Thanks for the update, Trondheim!

Indeed! Barroom brawling must be tirresom when you already are beaten and bloody

The conspirators gather at the heart of the kingdom and the Hero's still lay many leagues from safety. I fear for the Kel kingdom and the Queen.
Will the Lord Haakon Daggerhorn and Silja bare their plot into fruition? will Brage and Ashild ever stop being at the heart of a barroom brawl? I'l have to find out next time I guess
.

Due to events in my personal life I can not find the will to keep updating this story. But if it should come back to me I will resume this. Thank you to all whom had read and posted feedback.

Yours sincerely

Trondheim

Hope all goes well for you IRL Trondheim. You always have my support, my friend.

 Necroagogo wrote:
Hope all goes well for you IRL Trondheim. You always have my support, my friend.

Many thanks friend, it helps a lot to read those words=)

I can honestly say I'm really enjoying the amount of time and effort you're putting into painting the entire scenery around BARGE! (I know it's wrong but that's what I call him now. Lolz ) The dialogue is believable to the world, which is another thing I appreciate. I've read some fantasy stories where I'm thinking of two modern day philanthropist haggling with one another.

Bit by bit I'll read the entirety of this story but for now I leave this nice little compliment.

Edit: Whenever I read his name in my head it still says 'Barge' even when I try to say 'Brage'. Hehe

Many thanks, glad to hear that you found it enjoyebal and good to read. And I am sure you are not alone in that regard

Now that I know it's not Warhammer Fantasy, this story is entirely more enjoyable without being subjected to CRITICISM! I do enjoy justifying doing nothing all day but reading.

Edit: As the story reels you in the more you read the only real criticism I can think of is that you keep referring to the main character as Brage and not Barge. Now, this is entirely forgivable but in the future, you may consider fixing those slight errors... Food for thought. Lolz

Lord baron Simon Askhaug stood and studied the milling members of the court pass him by, their gossip and slandering held little favor with the wiry chamberlain whom wived such things with a strong disdain but he had learned over the years that it was very hard indeed to change the ways of both nobles and the common folks. And one had best adapt and allow ones fellow men and women some manor of freedom when it came to what they wished to waste away their time with.
His body still felt raw and bruised after the wounds given to him by the man that had sought to slip a dagger between his ribs, but the silent sisters of the temple had tended to his wounds and mended his bloodied form with their almost mystical methods of healing and mending. Thus he had found himself on his feet a lot sooner than he expected, even if it still hurt him to a great degree. Just getting dressed or doing physical things made him wince in pain.
Thus those whom served him had found the temper of their master most gloomy as of late, but it seemed none of them had judged him as a whiny sod just yet.
He nursed the glass of wine he held in his good hand and pondered the latest events that had rocked the royal court and made several prominent members of said court raise their voices in worry about the safety of the realm. And perhaps their own hides as well, but then again perhaps some of those persons actually did care about the lands instead of worrying about the potential disruption of coin into their already deep coffers.
Shaking of these gloomy thoughts he turned to leave the assembled horde of perfumed and noble born behind and retreat to his own chambers to plan his next course of action, when a voice that made his spine tingle with unease brought him back down into the gloom.
Turning around he saw a woman whom he positively was sure where the proof that the creator gods in all their wisdom had decided to sow the seeds of malice amongst the people they had created and planted in this world. As a dark spirit the slender woman had somehow crossed the crowded throne room in a few heartbeats and now stood before him, kept company by a buxom lady who wore a dress that revealed very little to the imagination, her pale flesh and long curling dark blond hair set against a dress that looked to be made of the finest silk from Stygia and decorated with glittering gem stones. To deny the beauty of the two women that stood before him would be borderline heresy in the minds of most men. One slender as a wisp and the other blessed with curves whom would make any man drool in sheer animalistic lust.
“ Good to see that the blade of an assassin can not keep our dear chamberlain confined to bed for long. Do let me know if the wounds trouble you and I shall send my personal doctor to help you mend.” said Lady Silja as she sipped her wine and gave the chamberlain a seductive smile.
“I believe you have not meet my dear friend here, she so dearly wished to meet the man whom more or less runs the kingdom”
“Oh yes I have heard so many tings about you my lord, and I have to say you cut a fine figure.”

If the seductive pair aimed to charm the man whom stood before them had severely underestimated just how foul his mood was, even if he found them attractive and perhaps felt a twang of lust deep within his chest. But non the less the chamberlain responded with a amount of warmt and respect some may would have found surprising.
“ Ah many thanks my lady, duty and sheer stubbornness can make a man able to deal with even the worst of wounds and illness I can assure you.” he said before finishing his wine in a single gulp and handing the goblet to a passing servant.
“ Now you really do have to excuse me my fair ladies, duty calls and I can hardly say no when it dose.” the chamberlain said as he turned to leave. But as he did it seemed he remembered something and paused. Turning to the dark blond haired woman he said with a wolfish grin on his lips.
“ If you are going to try and seduce me my dear girl, I suggest you try something else than what you just did. But my compliments on your stunningly beautiful body and magnificent breasts and hair.”
And not seemingly willing to let Lady Silja go without feeling his sting he said.
“ I would never been seen dead having someone you presented to me visiting my private chambers! If that vulture of a lover you keep thinks I am that dumb he is sorely mistaken.”
This sharp rebuke from the grey haired man silenced any further advancements from the beautiful pair whom had been attempting to seduce him. The two women shot poisons looks at his back as the man limped away, shadowed by his dark skinned manservant who’s hand never strayed far from the long khopesh he carried with him at ever moment he was awake.
This man in particular had over the last few weeks gained dark infamy amongst the members of the court as he had served as the headsman of several lesser nobles whom had been found to having enriched themselves upon the gold intended for the royal treasure chest. The heads of those men and women now stood upon spikes at the main gets that lead into the city.

The pair walked in silence but the manservant could feel that there was something gnawing away at his master. Finally the Stygian could not keep silent and broke the gloomy silence that had hung between the two men.
“Forgive me master but there is something I need to say to you”
“Oh? Well speak then man, you know you do not need to ask for my permission to speak. I value you views and thoughts deeply my friend.”
“Well my master, for the last few days I have observed that you seem troubled and somewhat distant, you hardly sleep or eat. And in every free moment you sit in your library and pour over dusty old maps and books. And when you attended the court you are somewhat akin to a foul tempered drake!”
These words made the grey haired chamberlain stop and let out a deep sigh of something akin to resignation and weariness. He rubbed his red eyes with one hand before answering his servant and trusted body guard.
“ I am sorry if I have been as distant and unlike myself if you claim Seon. But the last few days has proven to be some of the more distressing ones in a long, long time. I fear a dark age lies ahead of the kingdom I love so dearly, so in an effort to perhaps help stave of that looming darkness I have been scouring the records and reports of days gone by for any scrap of information that may give us an edge against our fiendish foes.”
Pausing to pull a slender bone pipe from his belt and stuffing it with a sour smelling tobacco the man continued once he had ensured the pipe had been lit.
“ As you probably are well aware of it seems like that wolf of a man Lord Daggerhorn looks to gain considerable more power over Kels, his allies are growing in numbers. But as for now not many of the nobles are brave enough or foolish enough to flock to his banner. Besides we are so fortunate that he has made many enemies too amongst the other nobles over the years. But what worries me most is the fact that he seems to be deeply connected to that wraith Lady Silja, and by that I mean beyond sharing a bed with her.”
The dark skinned servant did not say anything but merely nodded while a worried tone set across his scarred face. His companion seemed to wait for a response and thus the Stygian forced himself to answer even though his mind was already working over the things his master had said.
“ That is indeed dire news my lord, what do you believe will be Lord Haakon next move? Or that of his witch consort? If you wish I will tend to that one myself as soon as we are done speaking. The people of Stygia dose not fear the dark arts she wields.”
“That is indeed hard to say but I would hazard a guess that at that he intends to solidify his power and begin to chip away at the hold the queen has on her kingdom. Either by direct action by his troops or by subterfuge, or perhaps he will simply wait and further plot against her majesty. And no, leave the witch alone for now. Even if your enthusiasm is applauded Seon. But you would be sorely pressed to handle that one alone or even with a dozen of your fellow Stygian warriors at your side.”
holding his tongue as they walked past an assembly of finely clad noblemen and various wealthy members of the court, whom looked at the grey haired chamberlain with neutral eyes but spared not one ounce of open dislike for his servant. Their eyes following the Stygian as if they feared he would turn on his heels and cut one of them down in cold blood.


“As I was saying, Lady Silja has grown into a far more deadly beast than the man she shares a bed with. If I where a bit younger and brazen I would dare say that she is the real factor that motivates his underlings to work themselves half to dead, someone whom has ventured so deep into the dark arts would most likely make any man push himself a bit harder if that man knew that his master had a witch ready to pounce on anyone showing signs of being found wanting.”
To this his servant merely nodded and made a subtle sign to ward of any evil that could potentially be summoned by speaking of the lady in question.
“ I shall assign my most able men to shadow their every step sire! Are there any other further things you would have me and my men do in the name of the throne?”
“ No my friend, keep tabs on the pair and take note of all whom comes to court favor with them. As for now I need to speak with the captain of the royal guard, It is my dread that some rash fool may try to do away with the queen or other members of the royal council. And beside a few more men keeping an eye on things would not harm in these dark times. “
With those words the chamberlain and his manservant left the balcony and began to make their way to the private chambers of the man, whom where in need of rest and a change of bandages to his wounds.
As the chamberlain limped to his bedchambers and the royal court where fully gathered and set under the firm gaze of the queen and her council, and the various nobles whom had gathered fell silent the massive figures of the royal guard closed the great doors that lead into the throne room and took up their positions around the chamber, their gauntleteted hands gripping the hilts of the swords and axes they carried. Clad from head to toe in thick scale mail and with their full faced helmets with a crest of black horsehair they seemed like some god sent host of warriors of old legends.
Each of the men where veterans of countless battles both on the high seas and on firm ground, and not one of them would hesitate with dying for the queen whom they saw as someone almost divine. None more so than their captain whom had stood at her side since the horrid days of the civil war all those years ago.
The queen whom sat on her throne with her crown gleaming in the light from countless torches and candles looked weary and tired, yet her face was hard as stone and her eyes burnt with the same fervor they had done for the last decades. Now as the threat of war once more loomed on the horizon and the whispers of rebellion grew she readied herself to address the court whom where gathered before her.
Rising from her throne and one hand resting on the hilt of her sword she spoke with a calm yet steely tone to her underlings.
“ Greetings to you one and all, I will not spend time going over formalities and such since one and all should know why I have called for the gathering of the court on this cold winter day, once more there are rumors of unrest, war and the looming threat of famine in our lands. But as we all know these last years have not been easy but they have not broken us! Our lands are still at peace and our fields are not ravaged by war and unrest. From the far north to the borderlands of the south and east the banner of the realm still flies! Hardship will come to haunt us and force us to stand united as one.”
Pausing to let her words reach everyone and to sweep over the crowd in front of her she continued.
“ All of you know what happened within the walls of this palace and it is the suspicion held by the royal council that there are some whom knows more than what they have been willing to tell. But that is not why you are here today, I have gathered you to make sure that every man and woman whom govern their holdings with the grace of this throne knows their duties if unrest and war should come to haunt us once more, there are a growing number of reports from the north of unrest amongst the Picts.... And I believe no one here needs to be told what would occur if all the clans of the northern tribe where to join forces and sally across the border and down towards the south.”
It was at this moment that the gathered nobles and other well of individuals began to voice their own concerns and worries in what grew to a hailstorm of voices and noise.

The attempts to call the crowd to silence fell on deaf ears and it seemed the whole affair would end in mayhem, until the din of voices where drowned out by the loud and mournful howl of a horn and the hard and sharp voices of the royal guard whom now took the matter in their own hands.
Their captain stepped forwards and bellowed like a enraged bear to his men whom responded by drawing cold steel and fixating the unruly mob with cold glares that made even the most vocal individuals fall silent and remember their manners as a sense of fear seemed to calm their tongues.
The giant of a man seemed livid with anger as his whole posture radiated hostility towards those whom had caused such unrest and it was only the calm voice of his queen that made him relax and lower the great two handed axe he held ready in his hands.
But the captain did not let go of one man whom stood at the far end of the room with his ice blue eyes, and the man very much returned the favor by glaring back at him as the captain returned to his place and allowed his queen to resume the council in a more calm manner.
“ I understand you one and all, everyone has worries and such. And you will get time to present these matters to me and the rest of the royal council and court at large, my ears are yours for as long as it takes” she said and gestured to the speaker of the court to begin to call fourth those whom had something to share with their queen and their fellow nobles.
With order restored and her minions reassured the queen prepared to hear them all out, even if it meant that she would go partiality mad from hearing their whining and moaning about taxes, responsibilities and such.

Glad to see the return of this saga! Nice setting and the characters feel just the same as before. Can't wait for the half troll to cleave into the story once more.

A cold wind howled and filled the air with flakes of snow and frost, the heavens where draped in steel grey clouds that obscured the sun and the drifting snow seemed intent on draping the world below in a thick and cold white blanket. The snow settled on the hooded cloaks worn by the two travelers whom rode along the otherwise empty road that would take them farther south and towards their finale goal witch was the capitol and largest city of the kingdom of Kels.
The lead rider brushed snow of her dark green cape and looked over her shoulder to meet the gaze of her companion whom sat motionless in his saddle and glared at the foul weather that where enveloping them in a blanket of white cold snow. She grinned and looked forwards again, her cheeks stinging from the cold wind and her hearth beating with something akin to almost childish joy over the weather her companion seemed to loath with every fiber in his whole body at this moment in time. Looking out over the snow covered field to her left she saw the figure of the great hound whom made up the third member of their odd party of travelers. The beast seemed to be following his nose as he crossed the field and seemingly not paying too much heed of the world at large, but she knew that no man or beast would remain undetected by his keen sense should they be hiding nearby.
“ By all the damned gods and my long dead ancestors! I dislike winter as much as a thief dislikes the noose” the man growled as he seemed to come alive, and shortly after the stink of sour and strong pipe tobacco filled the air as he puffed away and as his comrade looked around the fields they rode past on their way south. But in his mind he was reliving the violent and gruesome events just before they had taken to the road again, the screams of the dying and the stench of blood and ruptured guts. And the nightmare inducing sorcerer whom had come close to claiming his life and that of his comrades as well, had it not been for the capable half troll that would have had been his last day amongst the living. He also pondered just whom could command a man whom wielded such foul arts and send said person on a wild chase after him. But none of the answers he could think of gave him any sort of relief or comfort.
“ I pray we don’t meet any sort of trouble for a long time now Ashild, the run of the mill bandit and sell swords I can stand encountering but if another witch comes crawling along I will find a high cliff and jump of rather than being subjected to all manner of dark things. Come to think of it, I don’t want to meet anyone whom is not friendly and willing to give us shelter and warm food. I think two near death experiences in a span of a few weeks are far too much for my liking. When this whole sorry mess is over I intend to vanish into the wilds for a long time and not meet another human being for a long time. That is if I don’t end up as arrow riddled corps or some great big beast devours me for lunch.”
“ Don’t spend every waking moment moaning like a old woman man, its just a bit of a breeze and you would do well with a snow bath to help your body mend itself” the half troll said as she gnawed on a piece of dried and salted mutton that she had fished out of the saddlebags. Her strong teeth ripping apart the meat like a dog tearing apart a piece of cloth.
“ Oh so many thanks for the sympathies and warm feelings my lady” her companion said before he whistled to call the dog.
“ You are most welcome” she replied, either ignoring his sarcasm or maybe she had not taken it as a jab at her. He felt he never really knew what to make of her at times, she could be deep as a pool in the river or as shallow as a puddle of water at times it seemed, in his mind he put it to her being of two very different peoples whom had very few similar customs or anything really.
Looking around he saw that they where definitively reaching a part of these lands that saw little travel come winter, in the summer or spring it would have been a lot more people passing this way with goods and livestock but now the roads seemed empty and the snow and themselves seemed to be out here now. In the far distance he saw what could only be a primitive barn used by the locals to store hay and grain during the harvest or possibly shelter their cattle if need be. But expect for that lone timber building with its roof now covered in drifts of snow he saw noting else.
He did however know these tracts of land well enough to say that they where some four or five days away from any major hamlet or town. Although if need be there where several smaller settlements where sheepherders and farmers made their home far away from the wider world.
As he sat on his horse and pondered these things and several other matters he became aware of the distant cawing of birds and that to his surprise his loyal hound Dread stood as nailed to the ground, the hairs on his neck standing stiff as the spikes of a hedgehog. A low menacing growl rumbled deep within the chest of the great dog as its nose probably had picked up something that made him very unease by the looks of things. Seeing this Brage called out to Ashild whom stopped her horse and in what could be described as a move born of experience and instinct drew her axe and gripped its hilt. Brage drew a arrow from his quiver and readied his bow while looking around for any sign of trouble but seeing none he prodded his horse forwards and up the hill they where at the base of, beside him Ashild did the same while Dread stalked after them with his teeth barred and his great pink tongue hanging from his maw.
“ By the gods man I dislike this” she muttered as they where about to reach the top of the hill
“ Let us dismount and look over the hill on foot. No point making our self easier to spot. You hold the horses while I take a look” the half troll said and handed the reins to her horse to Brage whom gripped both set of reins firmly while looking around with worry clear to see on his face.
“ Take the dog with you though, he can see and smell anything long before we can” he said as she walked towards the top.
Ashild reached the top of the steep hill and bent down as she almost crawled over the top and peered down onto the plains that lay downhill from her. What she saw there made her skin crawl with worry and her hearth beat like a drum. For down on those plains where wheat was grown and sheep raised in the warmer seasons lay hundreds and hundreds of bodies riddled with arrows, hacked down by sword and axe and impaled upon lances and spears. Dead horses and their riders also dotted the fields and the previously white snow was stained by blood and gore where men had been reduced to a bloody pulp by balista bolts and other large projectiles, broken banners and standards fluttered in the cold wind as if they wanted to protest against being left in this place of death and ruin.
“ Gods have mercy” she whispered as she turned on her heels and ran back towards her companion whom waited for her with their horses.

Brage did not need to hear what she had seen to understand that something was very wrong, but he did not expect to hear just what form of bad news she had to share with him as she stopped and spat in the snow. Her whole frame seemed to be on edge and her hands gripped the axe in a vice like grip. His eyes grew wide and his skin grew a deathly pale as he digested the words he had just heard from his companion.
“ Devils curse this land and the mad men whom rules! Why just why would someone fight a battle for farmlands and woods cloaked in snow, or a few scattered hamlets?” he said
“ it looked like one part of the men down there where from the armies of Kels, the others I could not identify but I am willing to bet that they where fighting for a renegade noble or that they where Picts. Its the only two factions whom would be willing to fight a pitched battle now, and this far into the lands of Kels itself. “
“ Well as much as it makes my stomach lurch, we need to cross those fields to carry on. If we are to take a different path it will take more time and effort than I find it safe to use. Beside I doubt we would be able to make good of those paths without having to risk a whole deal of trouble, both in the form of bad weather and dangers on two and four legs. With this amount of carrion available every scavenger and predator for many, many leagues will descend towards it to feast on the dead. And I agree with you Brage, I am willing however to bet that those whom the men of Kels died fighting had sworn loyalty to some dark master, whom was willing to risk such a move now. And there are just a few people alive whom would be that mad I am willing to bet my own life on” she said and remounted her own horse and turning the horse up the hill with her companions just behind her.
“ No argument there, and if those you think of are the ones I think of things are indeed far more dire than I ever had dared to dream of for the lands of Kels. Namely Lady Silja of Ulfheim and her nefarious henchmen, long has that black clad witch been a danger to one and all. Or heavens forbid a union of lesser nobles lead by one of the thanes of the realms. That would be a catastrophe whom could undo the lands and see it torn apart in a brutal civil war.”
“I would not fear her as much as I would fear the one holding her leash” said Ashild and cast a dark look towards the heavens above and gripped one of her silver trinkets as if seeking protection from the evil she just had mentioned.
“It is best not to worry about the lone wolf whom is snarling at you, but to worry about where the larger wolf whom sent the beast after you, is a motto I live and by the all father I will die by it” said Ashild as she put the trinket away under her mail shirt.
“ Sounds like a gloomy motto I dare say, personally I would rather stick a arrow in the damned wolf and then worry about the rest of the snarling hordes.”
“ Well my short sighted friend, that is why so many end up as wolf food” she said with something akin to a smirk on her lips, despite the dark subject they had been debating.

As they found themselves at the hill they had descended down from, the stench of the battlefield greeted them and made both half troll and man grimace. Even if it was a cold day and the winds of winter where sweeping across the fields and woodlands, the sheer amount of blood spilled and broken bodies gave of a aroma few people would not have felt sicked by. But thankfully the cold wind reduced the smell and also blew away the stink of men whom had died in fear and the following unsavory stink.
As the rode out onto the field they saw that the battle line had been drawn more or less along the narrow dirt road they followed. Here lay heaps of the dead where the fighting had been the hardest and most desperate. On one side lay men clad in the unmistakable uniform of the royal armies of Kels, thick scale mail and full faced helmet and armed with a large shield and a long sword, and on the other side of the line lay their foes heaped high and torn apart by the wall of steel and muscle that had opposed them. There where Picts whom had clearly been tempted by the promise of loot, vengeance and slaves but had only found death as they had been used as cheap fodder to tire the men of Kels. While these white painted devils of the wilderness had taken their toll they had been outmatched. But the waves of men that had come after them had fared much, much better. Men clad in thick mail and armed with swords and halberds had clashed hard with the men of Kels as arrows had bit deep on both sides of the lines. Their faces where hidden behind full faced helmets as well topped with horse hair dyed red and their armor had been colored a deep jet black tone, probably to intimidate their foes and make them seem like one massive wave of steel and hate as they charged.

“ We should split up and cover more ground, see if we can find any poor soul alive whom can shed some light on this bloodbath”

Hmm, battle afoot in the realm of Kels and the hand of the foe strikes with blade in hand for the meat. Dire times ahead for kingdom and all, but will the traveling trio make it to the capital in time?

'A massive wave of steel and hate'.

That's a really nicely-honed line, Trondheim. Thanks for the updates!

Glad you liked it!

Ashild walked amongst the fallen with one hand on her axe and the other freely at her side, all around her lay those whom had fallen in the defense of their homeland and for their beloved queen. Men in their best age whose life had been ended by sword, axe or arrow fired from afar by their foes whom, by the looks of things had come at them in waves, and slowly broken apart the shield wall.
She stepped over a man whom had been impaled upon several spears and lay surrounded by a dozen slain picts and a equal number of men clad in sooth black scale mail she knew that she was stepping over the body of a warrior, whom had without doubt earned his place amongst his ancestors.“ Rest easy fair hero” she said as she bent down and closed his eyes, and wiped the blood of his face before walking on.
As she continued to walk across the battlefield she found herself doubting if anyone whom had survived this madness at all, but she pressed on.
Now she found herself amongst the heaps of enemy dead, but these devils had not been slain by the regular soldiers of Kels it seemed, as most of them looked as if they had been run trough by something or cut down where they stood by a foe whom had charged by at great speed.
This made her somewhat curious and she started to look around with a new interest, and it did not take her long to find more evidence of whom had slain these men.
For there where clear signs of horses with iron shod hooves and the unmistakable signs of a brutal and surprising cavalry attack and when she found a man whom looked as if he had been trying to run away but had been shot with a single arrow, whom had struck him in the neck and dropped him like a pole axed ox.
The arrow was made of a dark type of wood and was set with a wicked looking arrowhead, that had several small hooks set so that it would be impossible to pull the arrow out of a wound without causing further horrific injuries, its guiding feathers where a deep red and looked as if they had been colored or dyed to give them the resemblance of having been dipped in blood. Looking around she saw several more men whom had been shot at close range with similar arrows or impaled upon long slender lances or simply trampled under the iron shod hooves of the horses. Whomever it was who had come out of the woods like a thunderbolt from a clear sky must have torn across the fields and left a trail of red stained ruin in their wake.
“Well I will be damned then” she said and almost seemed to smile as she turned to find Brage and share her findings with him. But as she turned she saw that he was already making his way towards her.
“ Well? Did you find anything that could shed some light on this whole bloody mess?”
“ That I did my curious companion, that I truly did” she said and handed him the arrow she had ripped free from one of the dead men she had examined.
Brage turned a shade of sickly pale white as he examined the arrow he had been handed.
“ Oh by the gods this is not what I hoped for, I would rather have a horde of dragons descend down from the heavens than having to worry about these damned savages as well.”
“ Are the brave frontiersman that afraid of a few unwashed horse masters from the east? I thought you a brave and fearless man.” she teased as he handed her the arrow back.
“ Oh do not misunderstand me, I am not scared by the ones whom uses these arrows generally. But if the Druzina has been let loose I fear the lands of Kels are truly at risk, for they are not suited for maintain peace or convincing a rebellious lord that he should not side with the forces of sedition. No they are a blunt and blood soaked hammer best used to smash apart enemies in pitched battle, or to sow fear and terror in the lands held by the enemies of Kels. More than once have they provoked the enemies of Kels to strike rather than to hold back, granted anyone foolish enough to think that they can corner a horde of Druzina horsemen like they could with a army of regular soldiers will not live to see the sun set. Seeing how those devils seldom plays by anyone’s rules and could not care less for the ways civilized men make war.”
To this rather blunt statement his companion only nodded in response and seemed to ponder his words, their moment of sombre silence was broken however by the sounds of Dread running like a whipped hare across the field and tackling a woman whom seemingly had either played dead or just regained her will to live.
Dread sounded like a horror born from a dark and horrifying nightmare as he bayed and chased the woman whom had played dead, and thus avoided being found by his two legged masters.
His breath was heavy as the massive hound leaped like a panther and barreled into the woman and sent her tumbling and screaming for help as the beast came for her anew. But Dread was not concerned by the mewling of his prey as he snarled and readied himself to pounce upon the downed woman and sink his teeth deep into her weak flesh.
The woman whom wore cloths whom at once point would have cost a small fortune, but now whom where noting but tattered and muddied rags screamed and wailed as he tried to get away from the nightmare whom now seemed intent on devouring him.
Taking one menacing step closer to the now crawling female Dread seemed to lick his lips as he let out a deep rumbling growl, but his immediate plans for dinner where disrupted when he heard the voice of his master calling him to heel.
“ Heel boy! Heel Dread!” Brage yelled to the massive hound whom looked to make a meal of the woman whom he had sniffed out, the frontiersman run for all his worth to stop the hungry beast whom he had no doubt about would willingly devour the would be run away if he was not controlled.
Despite the hunger gnawing at its guts the beast stopped and turned to look at its fellow pack members, whom suddenly seemed to have found their second wind.
The woman seemed to let out a deep sigh of relief when the pair reached the hound and ensured her bloody demise was at least postponed for some time. But if she thought those two would offer aid without question he would be sorely wrong. Ashild looked at the woman and the remains of his once fine clothing and the soft lines in his face and felt disgust well up inside her chest and stomach.
As Brage was about to walk over and help the lady to his feet, she stopped him with one hand and fixated the survivor with her cold eyes, as she was about to protest she gave him a look that convinced the frontiersman to refrain from it and leave the matter to her.
“ You know little girl, you are far away from your paymaster now and you have no lackeys to shelter behind. So I would advise you to speak and tell us just what happened here before that dog eats you alive!”
The lady looked as she was not prepared for such a harsh and openly hostile greeting from the two she no doubtfully hoped would help him away from this bloodstained place of carnage.
“ But my lady, I am but a humble servant whom where caught up in this male storm of suffering and madness! I had no choice of remaing here once the arrows started flying seeing how my master would have my head had I left without leave.”
“ Lying to someone whom decides your fate is not wise” was all Ashild said as she lunged forwards and punched her hard and sent her reeling and gasping for air and brutally kicking her in the lower back, sending him tumbling along the ground while foul curses came from her lips and her cloths being stained by the bleeding nose and the mud.
“ And furthermore sorcerer! Your disguise dose not give your dark brotherhood much in the way of honor, for someone whom is supposed to always watch from the shadows you do a poor job.”
She said and raised her axe and pointed it at the woman while giving him a dark look.
“ Kneel and spill all you know before I part your head from your shoulders and feed your marrow to the crows and your guts to the hound!”
The woman whom had looked like a forlorn servant, whom had been cursed with a horrid fate shed her disguise and revealed her dark inner self. her eyes glowed with dark energies, and her posture straight as the dark powers that flowed in her veins began to pump and allowed her to cast aside her summoned disguise.
Where tattered and torn cloths once had been there was now a ornate and well made curiass and elegant silk could now be seen as the witch glared daggers at the three whom had dared to see trough her disguise and spoil her good looks with their savage treatment.

The eyes of the witch burned with a crimson red glare and her shaven skull seemed to glow with heat as she snarled at her would be victims and drew a long and unpleasant looking saber from her scabbard and flexed her free hand, her mouth was a grimace of pure hate and disdain and her words where like the wailing voice of a person driven into absolute madness.
“ You dare spoil my looks, to tarnish me with your filthy peasant born hands and in addition threaten me with violence! Your names will be a byword for suffering and horror when I am done with you two!” she said and lunged forwards at Ashild with her saber aimed at her guts.
“I shall harvest your marrow and draw your souls from your cooling corpses! Birds and wild beasts will devour your still warm intestines and the denizens of the darkness shall eat your mind like sweet honey!”
The half troll barely managed to avoid the blow and jumped clear of a flat handed blow that would have sent her tumbling like a rag doll. Her own blows where parried and matched seemingly without effort by the devil whom sought to kill them both. Brage whom had been standing back shot a arrow at this new and utterly horrifying foe, but the arrow simply pinged of the curiass worn by his foe, and where promptly hurled back at him so fast that he just narrowly avoided catching the arrow in his face, but he still felt the bite of the steel tipped arrow as it nicked his ear.
Seeing that his bow was of no use he drew his own sword and did not waste any time coming to the aid of Ashild whom where busy fending of the growing storm of strikes and cuts aimed at her by their foe.
The ring of steel and the hiss of weapons humming trough the hair grew and grew as the fiend kept up a murderous pace, and did not seem to be any worried by fighting two foes at once.
As Brage parried a downwards blow and gave the witch a blow from his free hand, he found himself regretting his move. For the woman gave a howl of animalistic rage and with one hand grabbed him and used him like a club to beat Ashild of her feet and knock both of their feet.
He lay there with his head spinning and much to his dismay he saw that the foul wench had tossed his sword away and now where advancing upon them.
“Ashild..... Ashild! This is not the time for laying on the ground slumbering!” he said and got to his feet, and when he looked down to see what was taking his companion so long he saw a sight that made his skin crawl.
Ashild lay there silent and unmoving, a long bloody gash along her face and blood flowing from her nose and her arm bent in a unnatural angle.
“ So this is it then” he muttered to himself as he took a steep backwards and looked around for a weapon to fend of this devil in the guise of a human whom looked like she was enjoying the scene before her. He scooped up a spear that lay beside a dead Pict and felt drops of cold sweat running down his face, and he realized just how unpleasant the next few moments would be before his foe hacked him down.
“ To the nine hells with you harlot of the abyss!” he muttered and readied himself to die on his feet at least.
Dread whom had been told to stand down and await the word of his master, found himself whimpering with worry as he saw the shaven one hurl his pack mates around like a cat playing with a mice. But as he did something seemed to awake deep within him, a strange feeling the massive hound never had felt and the sensation filled his veins with what could only be described as red hot bestial fury. His pelt stood on edge and his whimpering went from a sign of fear to a almost unnatural howl that rang out across the bloodstained fields.
Lips draw back and his yellow fangs showing the great hound whom had faced countless foes and won, either by luck or skill the hound charged the female with the shaven head and sunk its great teeth deep into her shoulder while his powerful legs that ended in blunt claws raked her exposed flesh, his prey screamed in abject agony as the jaws that could shatter the leg bone of a ox closed around her should, and the beast began to rip and shake her with all its might.
In a crazed panic almost the woman lashed at the beast with her saber and tried beating it of but the hound did not let go of its prey and even as it felt the cold steel bite his body he continued to defend his master and pack mate.
The two combatants danced in a almost macabre scene before the loss of blood and the shock of their impending doom overcame them both. It was at that moment that Dread felt his strength fail him and he let go of his prey and whimpered in pain and shock before collapsing on the ground, his long pink tongue falling out from his bloodstained maw and his eye lids growing heavy.
His foe staggered backwards and seemingly where amazed that a mere hound could have done such harm to her. Spitting blood in defiance she grabbed the blade she had cropped with her uninjured hand and staggered towards the beast, hellbent on disposing of the foul creature. But she never got that far, for just as she was about to raise her weapon a sicking sound was heard and she saw much to her amazement a spear tip jutting out of her chest and as she gave a tortured scream she was pulled down and a gleaming sword fell and took her shaven head clean of her shoulders.

Brage watched in horror as his faithful hound leaped upon the vile sorceress and proceeded to make a red ruin of her left shoulder while raking her neck with his claws. His horror grew to a almost maddening sense of loss when he saw his loyal friend let go of his prey and slump down and seemingly whimpering for his master to help him, to save him from this strange one whom had so badly injured him. What followed he later only could describe as if a red mist had sunken down and enveloped him as he tossed away all sense of self preservation and charged the witch, intent on claiming revenge for his companions. But the sorrow of loosing his hound would never truly leave him and he would morn the hound as he had been his own flesh and blood.

Noooooooooooooo!

Cue the man tears.

Good boy, Dread. Good boy.

Glad my work produced man tears!

Poor dread. He died courageously and shall be welcomed warmly into the halls of hero's. Me thinks the half troll is slipping on her axe work.
A good read all in all, though a sad end to the chapter. I approve. I look forward to the next segment in due course.