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See, I told you this is looking like a lesbian romance, Necroagogo see's it too.

Now you boys keep your pants on for the moment

Charsi woke to a distinct feeling of pain, utter pain running amok in her bruised body. She forced herself to not panic, she did not recognize her surroundings at first, but then broken memories started to flow back to her. She remembered the fight with the Picts, the chieftain who had tried to lay her low and claim her as her own. And she remembered Ashild.... the warrior woman who had struck terror into the Picts as she killed them one by one, Ashild who had carried her to safety.
As she turned her head to look for her rescuer she was meet with a sight she would always carry with her.
There in the light from the cave opening sat Ashild naked from the waist down and tending to her wounds, her hands trembled slightly as she used a needle made from deer antler to stitch her wounds up. She was clearly not having much success since the stitches was somewhat uneven and irregular. But most of what haunted Charsi in her mind later was the utter look of sadness upon the woman’s face.

Wrapping the wool cloak better around herself she took the chance at speaking
“Perhaps you would like a hand with those?” she said and waited for a reply from her wounded friend. It came in a flat tone from the now shivering woman.
“Glad to see you awake, and I suppose you are better with a needle than me!”
those words was all Charsi needed, she got to her feet somewhat unsteady at first and walked over to her companion.
“You can do this! You have done it before, she needs your damned help girl” she thought to herself as Ashild handed her the needle and tread.
“Just do it fast, and don’t worry about leaving a scar behind!” Ashild said as she tried to relax as the needle touched her skin.
Swallowing hard Charsi began to do the unpleasant task that lay before her. She stitched several deep cuts shut and then washed the blood away with rags torn from a shirt that Ashild had taken with her. When she was her hands where shaking and she felt a need to wash herself, the stench of blood on her hands seemed to not go away nor did the feeling of having someone’s life on her conscious.
She washed herself in a nearby creek and tried her best to rinse out the blood of her cloths, when she was done she walked back feeling cold and miserable to the cave.
When she sat down by the fire that had been fuelled into a great pyre by now she realized that she was now utterly alone in the world, beside Ashild she did not have anything to rely on.
“So what now Ashild? Where do we go. We cant go back the way we came can we? Those blue painted devils will be waiting for us wont they!”
Looking up from the embers of the fire Ashild did not reply at first, it seemed she was somewhere far, far away at first. When she did it was with a hollow voice.
“Aye even if their balls has shrunk but they wont let us go back that way. Even if they did we would be walking back north without any supplies and proper equipment. The best way therefore is to push on and try to get out of these damned mountains at least.”
To this rather dour outlook on things the smith had no real reply, instead she too sat there and gazed into the fire as night drew near once more outside in the woods.
She fell asleep soon after eating the hare that had been roasting on the fire, but her sleep was plagued by dreams and unrest. Ashild sat awake by the fire and watched Charsi sleep, to her barbarian mindset the woman was somewhat of a mystery, she seemed to be both a warrior born but also a timid young woman who feared the darkness at the edges of the camp fire. But there was no doubt in her own mind, anyone who wished to do the raven haired beauty harm would die by her own hands.
It was in the darkness of the night that she swore to be her guardian, to shelter her from the cruel schemes of the world around them and to see her safely to the south.
As the moon rose she cut the palm of her hand with her knife and spilled five drops of blood upon the soil in the darkness to make sure her oath lasted into the afterlife if need be.

When dawn broke and the mist still hung over the land the pair set of, wearing tattered cloths and with very little in the way of provisions it was clear the coming days would be anything than a pleasant stroll in the mountains.
The day was a cold and miserable affair as they walked across the moors while avoid the main road. Mud clinged to their feet’s and cloths and rain pounded them. Ashild cursed a foul oath as she took a moment to catch her breath as she waited for Charsi to wade the stream behind her.
Seldom did she let bad weather get on her nerves but this was one of those times, looking around all she saw was waste tracts of wild land and woodland seldom if ever seen by anyone else than pictish hunters or mountain men.

“Bloody rain! I suppose it would be too much to hope for sunshine?” she heard Charsi curse as she waded across the ice cold stream.
“ Do not begin to whine about something we can do noting with” Ashild snapped and looked rather gloomy as she stood there wet to her skin. The sharp tongued response from her companion made the girl send her a rather questionable look.
She had discarded the tattered shirt she had worn and replaced it with a buck skin shirt, that was ill fitting and made her skin crawl.
Deciding a change of conversation subject was needed she forced a smile.
“Do you think we are destined for a another night under a pine tree? Or should I fantasize about a warm cave of sorts?” she said.
“Well lets hope for the cave, and not yet another drippy and mouldy old pine tree” Ashild said and begun to walk again with her axe slung over her shoulder.
They spent the night as they had feared under a tree but it was some small comfort that the rain had stopped. They huddled side by side near the fire, the night was cold and miserable and they woke to a dawn that greeted them with cold sky and a howling wind that swept along the moors.

When the sun who had breached the skies overhead stood at its tallest did they reach their goal, the road they reached was a far cry from the paved road of the south. Instead it was a muddy path that was wide enough for four horses to walk side by side or a heavy wagon to crawl along its muddy surface.
As they walked on in silence they passed solid stone fences that hemmed in pastures for the long haired cattle that watched them with dull eyes as they passed by. This mixed with other signs told the two that they where drawing near to some sort of town or hamlet of a unknown size.
As dusk begun to settle they finally set eyes upon the tiny hamlet that lay nestled in between the hills, the houses was made of earth and stone with few windows. From the chimneys pale smoke rose and carried with it a smell of burning peat and other smells that informed anyone with a strong nose that people lived here.

“Lets see if there a inn down there, I am willing to pay every coin I have to sleep under a roof to night.” Ashild said and stretched her sore limbs as they walked down what could be described as the main street of the hamlet.
Down the street they spotted a sign flapping in the wind, it showed them where to find the inn they had been looking for.
“Well Ashild lets see if they have a bed or two for us to rent! And I would not mind some wine” said Charsi and pushed the heavy oak door open and stepped into the common room of the inn.
When they both stepped in they were greeted with silence, there where only two people present in the room, the inn keeper and a lone man who sat at a table puffing away at a pipe.

The stocky bar keeper cleared his throat and spoke
“Come on in girls, you both look like you need a rest from the road. I have rooms free and food on the fire if you need something to full your guts with.”

“Two rooms and food plus wine if you have it.” said Charsi and slumped down on a chair, utterly spent from the road and ready to crawl under soft sheets as soon as she had eaten.

Ashild too sat down and let out a heavy sigh as she took her boots of and took a deep sip of her wine. The drink was a sour and hard hitting brew was not to her liking.
“ Damn this drink is harsh!” she said and turned to Charsi who seemed to like the wine much more than she did however. Having downed one glass already she was pouring herself another one when the food came. They ate in silence and cleaned their plates of the stew that had been served them.
Afterwards they sat for a few moments in silence until Ashild got up, payed what the food and drink had cost and begun climbing up the stairs to their rooms with her boots in hand.
As she had vanished from sight the until now silent innkeeper spoke up.
“If you don’t mind me saying miss, you keep strange company! Id never imagine I would see a half troll in these parts of the world. “

“So I? I find noting strange about my companion, but I do see what you hint at. And why did you not expect to see someone with troll blood in their veins in these lands?” the black haired smith replied.

“Well troll kin ain’t exactly the types to wander aimlessly around in the black mountains, and stumble half dead into a hamlet in the middle of no where. Nor do they keep someone like you around for the mere joy of company.” the man said and started to blow out the candles that threw ghostly shadows on the walls.
“Well then, good night miss. If you leave before I’m up help yourself to bread and drink, leave the pay on the counter if you don’t mind.” he said as he opened the door that lead into his own quarters.
When the door closed behind him Charsi stood there in the dark for a short moment before she began to walk up the stairs. As she did she could barely hear the howling wind outside mix with the creaking of the stairs and the sounds of a sleeping house.
She found the room they had rented and opened the door while trying to make as little sound as possible. She stepped in and threw a weary look at the dimly light room, it was furnished with a large bed, two heavy chairs plus a small table. In addition there stood a heavy chest at the far end of the room, no doubt for guests to store things that needed to be secured under lock & key.
Pulling her worn and somewhat ragged shirt over head and undoing the buttons on her under shirt she mused at her needs for new cloths. The heavens knew it would be divine to dress in something that did not reek of sweat for once come morning.
When the last garment was removed she fell into the waiting bed, the soft linen sheet seemed to embrace her. And lure her into sleep with promises of keeping her warm and sheltered.
Suddenly she felt a warm hand wrap itself around her waist.

“So......afraid to sleep alone?” a very familiar voice whispered in her ear. It was then Charsi realized something that sent a wave of unexpected feelings up and down her body, the thought of having Ashild so close to her when she was undressed made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on edge.
“Oh heavens! I’m so sorry Ashild, I did not mean to wake you up.” She said and felt a blush creep up on her face, she felt grateful for the fact that the room was poorly lit, but at the same time she felt a buzz of emotions well up inside her. Feelings she never realized she could have for anyone, let alone a woman! But she did not get up and leave as her mind told her to do. Instead her hearth told her to stay.
She could see Ashild smile in the gloom as if she was amused by the odd reaction from the naked woman beside her.
Her voice was however did not carry the iron hard tone she had come to know, instead it was a trembling and unsure tone that carried her next few words.
“Don’t go I have spent far to many nights alone, and I would not bear to to see you go” she finished as a lone tear streaked down her chin.
“Shhh you don’t need to beg me for anything, if anything I should thank you” Charsi said and wiped the tear away with a trembling hand.
She leaned in and kissed Ashild on her chin, then as the wind howled by outside and the rain returned. Two women found safety and reassurance in each others arms.

As i said before in my p.m, this was a good read. Though the bit at the end felt a bit un-genuine tbh (not that I'm an authority on the matter) and could do with a look over and a read by a friend to build the moment.

I agree, having consulted a person I know it will be reworked and re posted soon.

Its nicely written, even if its a tad bit surprising that they're both lesbians.

Looking forward to the next entry.

In the driving rain and the howling wind upon the barren moorland a large formation of massive horses carried their riders fourth, their iron shod hooves kicked up dirt while hot hair rose from their nostrils, their riders where all clad in solid steel and armed with long lances and spiked war hammers. Their heads where concealed beneath helmets and facial masks that gave them a almost inhumane appearance.
They had passed the site of the horrid ambush and the following bloodbath, the sight of the rotting corpses did not make them pause for a second. Instead they had passed the site by as if the vile crime was something they did not see fit to waste time on.
Their shields hat hung on their saddles where adorned with a simple yet very terror inducing symbol, it was in the form of the gaping maw of a great beast.
As they crossed a stone bridge and could sense the land around them change their pace increased as if spurred on by a unseen force.
A lone farmer returning home from a neighbor walked along the road with his trusty dog at his side, in his hands he held a lantern to illuminate the road for him. As he walked there in the horrid weather he became aware of the sound of approaching thunder, or so it seemed. His hound began to snarl and barred its yellow teeth at whatever was coming down the road, as lighting light up the night he saw them come as if nightmares from a horrible dream. All those who dwelled on the road that lead to Kels knew these wraiths. As they drew nearer he considered throwing the lantern away and jumping into the hedge for safety or the illusion of it at least. But his feet where as nailed to the wet road beneath them.

The massive horses came to a halt around him, and the riders lowered their lances and formed a circle of cold steel around him. The one who was their lord it seemed dismounted and approached him. The rider was a towering wraith like figure who spoke with a voice that offered no doubt about his demands.
“ Kneel peasant! Have you seen any strangers on the road of late?” he or maybe it said and rested one armored hand on the hilt of the war hammer that hung on his waist.
“Well no sire! I have not seen a living soul except for you and my neighbors!” the terrified man said and seemed to gasp for air, while his hound growled by his side and looked with hate filled eyes upon the one who treated his master.
“Not even a half troll in the company of a black haired woman?”
the farmer shook his head and fought the urge to piss himself with fear as the other riders looked down upon him from behind their mounts. The wraith before him seemed to think this over and turned to him.
“Run along to whatever hole in the ground you call home!”
grabbing the reins of his horse he mounted up and took his lance from one of the others who had held it for him. Speaking not a word he spurred his horse and within a few heartbeats the riders had once more taken up the lonely road once more.

Meanwhile in far more pleasant surroundings a dark haired woman sighed in satisfaction, she lay under linen sheets with her hair in a great mess. Beside her slept the one who had dared to step outside of the castle she had erected around her own hearth and feelings. She sat up and draped the blanket around here naked frame, the chill in the air made her nipples firm and goosebumps to form on her arms and legs. Outside the window she saw that the sun was about to begin to rise once more, cloths where needed she decided and picked up her undergarments and slipped them on.
As she sat there getting dressed she could hear the slow and steady breathing from Ashild who slept like a stone. A grin found her lips as she noticed the marks the feisty woman had left on her neck and other parts of her body.


She walked over to the table where she had left her coin purse and belt. Strapping on her boots she decided food was needed alongside a wash. She felt satisfied as she walked down the creaking stairs to the small common room below.
Up from the room rose a mix of smells, burning wood. Warm food and drink was amongst the things that tickled her nose.
As she sat down and was about to start attacking her breakfast she overheard a pair of townsfolk talking.
“So did you hear? Anton who has that farm up by the trade road came home white as snow. He stumbled in trough his door and fell down shivering with fear! His wife had to get her sons to help him to bed, when he came to he said he had been stopped and interrogated by the Draconian Guard”

“The heavens have mercy on us if that be true! What could have brought those wraiths up here?? I don’t like that at all.”

”Aye I agree, those foul bastards only bring misery and suffering for us common folks!”

The men drank up and left their table, but however their audience who consisted of Charsi was left without much of an appetite. She sat there and felt fear grip her hearth, if what the peasants had talked about where true, and not the drunk ramblings of a frighted farmer. If the Drake guard where roaming the lands there where indeed reason to be worried. They where the mailed fist and the unspoken blade in the dark that the king of Kels used to enforce his will across the lands, they where utterly devoid of mercy and answered to no on except their king. But it was rumored they also heeded the call of the kings marshal.
She had seen them once when she was a youth, the riders clad in dark steel and with silvery face masks had come thundering on their great horses and in the gloom they had butchered a group of traveling folk. She remembered the screams and the horrid sounds of the wanton slaughter filling the night. The ones who died never stood a chance, against the faceless daemons they had been hacked down and their wagons burnt. The only one left alive was a man that suffered a far worse faith, he was taken as a prisoner and as the riders left the burning scene behind the man wailed and begged for mercy, he apparently knew what awaited him when the riders returned to Kels with their prize.

As she sat there and contemplated the meaning of this a familiar hand placed a mug of beer on the table, sitting down opposite her Ashild looked somewhat awake but not ready to face the world just yet it seemed.
“So awake so early eh? Something wrong” she asked and took a sip of her beer.

“Well I think there may be problems looming for us, I overheard two townsfolk talking about something less than positive.”

“I see, well care to share what these problems are” her lover said and put her feet up on a free chair while she started to braid her hair.

“Have you ever heard about the Draconian guard Ashild?

Interesting turn of events, who are these fell riders clad in mail and their death masks?

the romance reads better now after the tuning.

Now, let the blood spurt it's river of jeweled gore to paint the floor

Yup, reads better now. Nice reworking. Looking forward to seeing Ashild face off against the knights!

I'm interested in hearing more about the Draconian Guard. Nice new entry.

The half troll shock her head in response and turned to listen better to what her more knowledgeable comrade had to say. Her eyes glimmered with interest and her strong hands gripped the beer mug she was holding firmly. Taking this as her signal to begin she lowered her voice to avoid drawing attention to what they where talking about.
“Well I do not know much, not more than what I have heard other say and what a few old men that used to travel with the caravan told me. They are the ones who are closest to the king of Kels. No one is allowed to enter the royal quarter of the city unless they have permission from the marshal of the realm. They where formed after one of the old kings where almost laid low by a disloyal nobleman serving in the kings guard. ”
she paused for air and to look around with a hint of nervousness in her eyes.
“In addition to being the ones who guard the royal court they are also the ones who carry out and enforce his will when needed. They answer only him and no one else! Even the lowest ranking member of their order can kill, butchered and rape until come judgement day. They are without mercy and without compassion! In addition to guard the king they also reside of the ruined fortress at Kurn” she said and took a sip the the wine that stood in front of her.

Taking in these things Ashild looked less than amused.
“So you tell me the king of Kels has mad dogs as his personal guard? And how in the name of all evils do anyone recognize these hounds anyway? I assume they have uniforms or a particular look about them? Or do they simply jump from shadow to shadow!” she said and looked less than impressed with what she had heard so far.

“Well I was just getting to that you see, they wear black robes and hoods to conceal themselves. They wear death masks that hides their faces from the world. When they leave Kels they always ride massive black horses.”

“hmm sounds like a amusing lot they do!” the half troll said and pulled a long slender pipe from her belt. She stuffed the pipe with strong tobacco from the west and lit it. She did not look impressed but behind the brave face she felt a knot of worry grip at her, if these pale riders where indeed what she suspected them to be things could go sour very fast indeed.
They sat in a somewhat awkward silence for a long time as people slowly began to fill the inn, and the choir of voices made listening in on what was being said at the tables hard for anyone with long ears.
“Go up and pack our things, we will need to leave as soon as possible! I think we may have overstayed our welcome” Ashild said and undid the leather strap that secured her axe while she did not use it.
“What? Why do you say that” Charsi said and seemed puzzled by these words.
“GO now you hear me! If you wish to see another day!”
The look in her eyes did not leave any room for doubt, she had seen or picked up something that Charsi had not. And after what they had been trough did the former smith doubt her sharp eyes and mind.
Walking fast upstairs she packed all their belongings and made sure to check the room over for anything she could have forgotten while doing so.

When she came down with the two leather bags she saw Ashild waiting for her with one hand on the hilt of her axe. Joining her Charsi handed her one bag and was about to speak when the heavy oak door was opened and as if someone had thrown a spell over the room all became dead quiet.
In trough the door walked several figures clad in midnight black robes and with silvery death masks where their faces should have been.
The wraith like figures parted and a figure who stood heads above his comrades came into view, if they where terrifying he was the very avatar of cold fear incarnated. His mask where made to display a face displaying rage and hatred, his ornate black robes seemed to drain the very warmth from the air.
The common folk in the room stood as nailed to the floor as he strode across the floor and looked down upon the trembling and deathly pale inn keeper who tried to make himself invisible behind his bar desk.
“Innkeeper I have questions for you, and you will answer them” the Draconian lord said with a deep voice that rang with the passing of countless years and mistrust.
The man despite having knees that treated to give out under him managed to get up and looked the knight in the eyes.
“Aye my lord!” he said with a voice that revealed he had more than likely been a soldier in his youth.
“What dose the kings men ask of me?”

“The king only desires one thing you mongrel!” the knight said and with a fluid move he pulled his weapon, and with one fell strike crushed the skull of the old man with the steel point of his hammer.
The dead man sagged to the floor where his ruined head slowly pooled blood onto the wood.
“Kill everyone here, then burn it all down! I do intend to send a signal to anyone who has dreams of freedom!” he said and walked out the door with two knights close behind.
At the back of the room where they had been silent witnesses until now Ashild and Charsi where awoken by the screams of the dying and wounded as the first blows fell.
The assembled peasantry where shocked for a instance but the panic erupted as the knights who had until now only watched their lord go about his business. The avalanche of cold steel tore into the unarmed men and women like a hot blade may pass trough butter, the room quickly turned into a abattoir as the faceless ones cut down anyone in their path.

Outside the other knights under his command where already busy sowing the earth red with the blood of the townsfolk.
As the slaughter unfolded and the screams of the dying filled the air in the small hamlet two figures where running like whipped horses across the nearby fields and pastures.
They had managed to get back up the narrow stairs of the inn, and slip out the window on the room they had slept in. Now they where running for their life’s, even if the sounds of the gruesome act playing out behind them haunted their minds. As they ran and the day grew it could be seen a great plume of smoke rising up on the horizon.

“My lord, not a soul beside us draw breath here now. We did not find the girl and the half troll. They must have slipped out of this place either before we came here or under the act itself.” a blood stained knight said and wiped the blood of his hammer as he informed his master. Pausing only to sheath his weapon he continued.
“However it is more than likely they have fled across the fields, do you wish us to give chase? We can run them down before nightfall!”
The Draconian lord threw a long gaze across the green fields, before answering his underling.
“Bring them to me alive or dead I care not! But find them and find them fast!” he said and gripped the reins of his horse and swung himself up into the saddle.
And with those last few words the Draconian guard left the burning hamlet and the slain behind them, smoke billowed up and as if to foreshadow a coming event the sky seemed colored by the innocent blood shed that day.

No feedback? Well then if it was somewhat lacking I hope I can get some hints of what went wrong

Personally, I think its good. The only reason you aren't getting comments is because Dakka Fiction has been really slow for the past few days.

My only complaint is that the Draconian Guard are a little too evil. It seems almost over the top. Like when the commander says, “Kill everyone here, then burn it all down! I do intend to send a signal to anyone who has dreams of freedom!” Still, its not bad. The scene flows well, and your writing is very descriptive. I especially like this: "Outside the other knights under his command where already busy sowing the earth red with the blood of the townsfolk. "

Keep up the great writing.

I agree with LoneLictor on the Draconian Guard, I understand being a bit ruthless, but the non-stop slaughter that seems to follow them around doesn't have much rhyme or reason. Do these people or the King of Kels really think that's necessary? Of course, just a friendly opinion, if you believe that they have ample reason to do so, I'm sure we'll read why sooner or later .

I enjoyed that section, mate. Been a bit busy to comment lately but I'm certainly looking forward to more.

Who'd be a peasant, eh?

As mentioned above, some nice little flourishes and imagery in this last update. I particularly liked 'his ornate black robes seemed to drain the very warmth from the air'.

Bring on the payback.

So to those of my readers whom may be upset about the lack of brutal and unrestrained violence I can say this. Have no fear, your thirst will be quenched in the coming chapters.


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“Come on! Keep up or else we are good as dead!” Ashild said and spat as she jogged on in front of Charsi, who barely managed to keep up with her trough the rough ground they had reached. Behind them rolling farm lands dotted with copses of trees could be seen. And further beyond that the slowly climbing plumes of smoke from the burning hamlet and the surrounding farms and home stead’s.
While waiting for her companion to catch up she took the chance to let herself catch her breath again. But in her mind the scenes that without a doubt had unfolded in the town they had left behind never ceased to repeat themselves. But she knew that to take on so many foes of such battle prowess was noting short of suicidal. No the gods would not greet her soul just yet she decided and pulled her cloak around her with one hand.
As the younger woman caught up with her she was clearly all but done for, her breath was ragged and she almost bent over double when a wave of sickness made her vomit bile and spit out her breakfast. She trembled with a mixture of exhaustion and something else that she could not describe.
“Here drink this and rinse your mouth out, it will help the taste go away.”
She did not get a reply instead she only got a sour look and then two smaller hands than hers took the offered drink.

Her pale blue eyes searched the landscape below them for any signs of any pursuers but none could be seen, but she could shake the feeling that they had not escaped unnoticed, those mask wearing fiends where not that dumb she felt sure of. Her hands unintentionally came to rest on the hilt of her axe, she knew that at one point she would cross steel with those hounds. And when she did there would be a bloody reckoning for those bloody handed riders.
“Do you wish to stand there and look all stormy? Or should we get going” Charsi said and broke the moment of silence and consideration.
“No, the storm clouds are already brewing in my head” was the answer that was given to her.
“Well where do we go? We can’t just wander around in the woods until old age or a early death claims us can we?”

“No that we can not, however there is one place where even the wraiths that will undoubtedly be on our heels will hesitate to journey! I talked to several individuals back in Tuffria who spoke of a land where men worship living gods and gold flows. Also it seems the rulers of that place have very little love for the king of Kels......”
pausing to let these words settle in the mind of her lover she continued.

“ I suppose one raised in a caravan has heard about Stygia?” Ashild said and waited for the reply she knew would come.

“Have you gone stark raving mad? You wish to go to that serpent lair! Why in the name of all that is still good in this world would you suggest anything like that!”

“No I simply wish to have the chance to repay the inbred whore son who slaughter his own subject for no reason and allows rabid dogs to run amok when they should be guarding the realm.” the half troll said with a dark look upon her worried face.
“So unless you have a better idea, or wish to remain here and hope that the moral high ground will save you that is fine by me! But do not expect me to do so too.”

“But you suggest we go there almost naked! We have almost no coin, although we have what equipment we need for the journey that will take us at least one to two weeks depending on the weather, and what paths we take. And what do we have that would even make them consider aiding us if they where in a mood to do it?”


“I do not intend to walk to the borders of Stygia my dear! I had imagined a more enjoyable way of getting there. You told me one evening when the caravan had just left Tuffria that there is a great river that runs out of the mountains around here, and that its used to haul good down to the realms that lies downstream. Nor do I plan to rely on charm alone to find some way to get them to aid us.”


Meanwhile they discussed, and the dark riders of the Draconian guard searched for tracks a lone hawk soared high up above them. Its golden feathers reflected the sunlight and its ruby red eyes scoured the landscape beneath its self. It studied the two women with its sharp gaze and with several strong strokes of its wings it turned back the way it had come with news for the one who awaited its return.
For two days and nights it flew without pause, its body did not require rest as it was cast from gold and imbued with very potent witch craft. As it swooped low over the marshland below it a sharp shriek emitted from its throat and it slowed its speed as it spread its great wings and finally landed on a glowed hand.
A tall wiry man stroked his prized bird and offered it a small pearl that that his pet crushed with its beak. The man was clad in fine silk and sported long dark hair well kept and had it secured with a hair pin stylized to resemble the hawk he now had resting on one hand. He seemed lost in thoughts as he stood there alone but a low rustle in the brushes told him that his other servant had come fourth.
The man that appeared out of the bush was clad in ornate but very well forged armoured crafted to resemble the scales of a snake, he had a curved sabre resting on his hip while a long slender bow made from some dark wood rested in his calloused hands. The man had skin like copper and had a head shaved clean of hair. He knelled and payed respect to his master.
“What is thy bidding master” he said in a neutral voice.
The man with the hawk now perched on his shoulder seemed to debate something with himself before answering his underling.
“The pair seen in the prophecy was seen by by my winged companion. They are running for their life’s with the servants of the throne usurper closely behind, but for now they are unaware of the axe that looms over their heads.”

“What dose this require the sons of Stygia to preform?” the soldier said and seemed to shiver with a eagerness to serve and aid his master. His master let out a deep breath and began to instruct his minion in the things that needed to be done. While he did so a crude smile found its way onto his ruined face that where criss crossed with scars and the evidence of torture done onto him in times past.
“Journey into the lands ruled by the dog of Kels, there you will seek out a pair of women currently attempting to make their way to Stygia itself! However do not let them reach our lands! You will lead them to the great river where I will greet them. Only then can the prophecy be fulfilled and the reign of madness that has gripped the north end.”

The kneeling warrior bowed and rose to his feet, with his new quest given to him he did not waste a moment. When the sun reached the top of the sky he was already making good speed across the flood plains of the river, his horse thunder across the wet ground and signalled the coming of the son of Stygia for all to see. He was not a man with a whole lot of interest in the ramblings of priests at the best of times but his master was something else. He had actually set foot outside of a temple, and he had felt the cold bite of steel many, many times. That alone made him a man to follow and obey. And if a result of that was that he where going to shed the blood of a few barbarians so be it, it was something he gladly would do.
He was by no means a cruel man, but anyone who served one who would murder his father to claim something as simple as a throne was noting more than mindless cut throats.
As his horse cleared the flood plains and reached firm ground where its hoofs found better grip he could sense the animal calming down, failing into the know rhythm horse hoofs gripping firm soil. He turned the horse onto the road and set a steady course northwards.

While the lone rider made his way north Ashild and Charsi came to the realization that they where being followed, while climbing a particular stony hill.
It was when she bent down to do the laces on her boots that she saw them cross the river in the bottom of the valley.
“Oh no heavens say we don’t need to deal with them too!” she yelped and caught the attention of Ashild.
The warrior woman turned and look, and her face said it all. They had expected the pale riders to come or perhaps the soldiers of the armies of Kels but not the men clad in fur and armed with copper and obsidian weapons.
Down there in the strong currents of the water a large party of Picts could be seen wading across to the other side.
“I almost hoped for those damned riders, and not damned Picts! But it seems they ar not aware or interested in us.” she said but still begun to move at a considerable pace up the slopes ahead of them.
If the hunters below where aware of them they did not show it, they crossed the ford and disappeared into the woods like they ghosts the legends told by the civilized man made them to be.
But as they did the ones the duo had feared drew near, the lead rider surveyed the lands around them with cold eyes. His hands gripped the reins of his horse and his breath formed a cloud of mist around his head as he waited for his comrades to draw up beside him.

“Damned these untamed lands, they are only filled with savages and rebel scum!” he snarled and turned to his second in command who was familiar with the lay of the land.
“Where is the most likely point our prey will surface, and are there any possible routes they may take to avoid detection by anyone trailing them.” he finished.

“They mus have crossed around here, further upstream there is too dangerous to go across the river and downstream...well if you care to flow down the river with a pictish tomahawk in your head I suppose it would be fine. “

“I see well let us not spend another idle moment in these forsaken lands. I feel the very filth of the land stain my mood.” the leader said and kicked his horse onwards.
They reached the crossing and thundered across without any attention payed to camouflage their coming.

Another fine addition to Ashilid's legacy.

Keep it coming, I look forward to seeing more.

Castra

I can't believe I missed the two new entries.

They were a fine read in advancing the storytelling. The part with the black riders entering the inn was very well written. And the new faction of the bird man thrown into the mix was intriguing in it's mystery.

Thelma and Louise meet Conan.

Good stuff!

 Necroagogo wrote:
Thelma and Louise meet Conan.

Good stuff!

Well.....I was aming for Red Sonja meets Conan but I suppose a fantasy version of said duo works well too

Nice new entry.

Ashild felt as she was floating in a sea colored red and looked down upon by a burning sky, her limbs felt numb but yet responsive, and her mind swirled with the weight of the ages and possibilities of fate.
As she felt the warm water caress her form and gently carrying her towards whatever goal lay ahead a thought found her mind. Was this the afterlife? Had she fallen to the swords and arrows of her enemies, or had the elements extinguished her spark in a blaze of natural fury? She did not know nor did she in fact care she realized. Just as she was coming to grips with these strange and new found thoughts a voice broke the silence that reigned in the realm.
Looking around she saw that the waves had carried her onto firm ground, and that she was in fact resting on sand baked white by the sun.
in front of her stood a very tall man, thin as a branch but yet with a almost unnatural aura around his person. He wore a simple yet elegant cut set of silk cloth and held in one hand a staff that portrayed a hooded snake with red ruby eyes.
“Greetings hallowed one, you must excuse these humble surroundings and lack of ceremony. I am no believer in such frolics. I see you have questions and many more things swirling in your mind.”
he finished and extended a hand to help her to her feet, his grip was like that of a bear and it came to her attention it was more to this man than met the eye.

“Where am I? Have my life come to an end and if so are you my finale judge?” she said and took a moment to look around. The sand dunes reached for as far as her eyes could see with the burning sky pierced by glimmering stars mixed in.
“Do I look like the one who would be fit to judge you? No that much I can assure you I am not. However I did not bring you here to discus the matters of what awaits us all after we cross the river Styx after we take our last breath of air.”

Pausing he rested both of his copper skinned hands on his ornate staff and looked into her ice blue eyes with his own yellow pupils.
“But I forget my manners, when graced by a flower of such beauty one must introduce oneself. My name is Thoth Amon. Servant of the eternal realm of Stygia”
With formalities out of the way the man continued the one sided dialogue

“I brought you here to let you be made aware of what is transpiring in the realms we call home!”
Slamming his staff down and muttering several obscure words in a tongue she could not hope to grasp the man summoned a swirling vortex of sand and mist.
She coughed and spat sand as the now storm like wind blew fiercely around them both, whatever foul witch craft this was she felt her bloody bones shiver with fear and despair.
But trough the storm came the voice of the man who had brought her to this....place or dimension.
“Calm your self child! And behold the coming of war!” he said and with those words the sand and mist fell away and she could see unhindered once more.
At first she was not sure what she saw down there, but then as if the strings holding her aloft int eh air where cut she plunged downwards and jerked to a halt.
“What you will see now may or may not happen. The schisms of fate are fickle and do not always unfold in that way one may wish or pray for.” the man said and seemed to await her response to what was to come. Then it began she realized, she could hear the blaring of horns, the thunder of drums and the sharp and rage fueled cries of the assembled hosts.

Below her a truly immense battle raged outside the walls of a great city, ranks upon ranks of heavily armored spear men clashed with swordsmen, and regiment of cavalry dressed with all the panoply of war thundered across the blood soaked fields laying each other low with cold steel and burning hate. The very city itself burnt and in the shadow of the pyre it formed she could see horrid acts of unspeakable cruelty being preformed. This was indeed the coming of war, and a war unlike the north had or would ever seen.
“What’s this madness! Do you find it amusing to tease me with the images of the north being torn asunder? Why have you brought me here? To be your muse or for other nefarious scheme” she growled and felt for her axe.


These words she realized just after speaking them had bit hard but not unexpected on her host. His eyes simmered with witch fire and his voice was like that of a angry and wrathful god.
“SILENCE MORTAL! You think I care to meddle in the affairs of unwashed cut throats and throne robbers just for the sake of amusement and sport! If I wanted to I could snuff your life out like a child pulling the legs of a insect. You journey with the one who will bring an end to the plans set in motion by the lurking evil at hand!”
The man seemed on the verge of calling down the wrath of the very gods upon her, but he seemed to recover his self control. At least parts of it anyway.

But Ashild felt she had glimpsed something that did not think, act or plan like a mortal. She felt a unnerving sensation tingle up her spine and she gained a somewhat unsure feel for the man. To her superstitious mind he was akin to something that walked the border between the gods and man. In short something to handle with extreme care.
Picking her words carefully she spoke in a steely tone.
“You tell me that the one who is supposed to bring about peace and all are the Charsi I know? If you speak the truth and the gods help you if you lie to me I may be persuaded to help. But make no mistake! Curl a hair on her head and there will be no abyss deep enough for you or anyone who have helped you to hide in”
These words seemed to be expected, perhaps counted on to come from her red lips. But if the man had been awaiting them he did not reveal his satisfaction. Instead he flicked his hand and the battle below became replaced with the white sand.

“Have no fear, if I intend to do you harm I would not summon you here woman! Look for the falcon when the pale ones draw near, know you will not stand alone.” Thot Amon said with a weary tone finding its way into his voice.
And with a gesture of his hands the dream became a swirling configuration of sand, mist and the vast marches of time and space.

She awoke drenched in sweat and with a hammering hearth, her mouth felt dry and she could have sworn she felt sand gnawing at her skin beneath her cloths. She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and tried to orient herself, she could see the outlines of a sleeping form on the other side of the fire and the pale morning sky behind the hills.
Cursing in troll tongue she grabbed the water skin an drank deep of it, and washed her face afterwards. But then it dawned on her, the morning was too quiet. No bird song could be heard or any of the other normal sounds and smells.
Instead there hung a unpleasant reeking smell in the air, it reminded her of the smell that normally hung over battlefields and such bloodstained places.
“The northern whore finally decided to wake brothers. Let us make her last moments painful shall we!” a cruel voice said, and the speaker emerged from the fleeing shadows. Clad in dark steel armor, an with weapon in hand the masked ones emerged from the woods around the camp.
Ashild felt noting but pure and unfiltered anger simmering in her veins. The pale bastard could brag all he wanted to, he would discover that she was no unarmed and defenseless peasant running from the blades that awaited her.
Moving to stand such that she blocked them from getting at Charsi who was now waking up to the cold realization that her nightmare had come true.

“Brave words from a coward who hides behind a mask, and who makes sport of killing women and children. I don t fear you nor your masked cronies!”She said and gripped her axe with her left hand.
The circle of black clad riders begun to close the half circle they had formed around the resting pair of women. In silence the knights came on, each one a statue of fighting prowess and unmatched cruelty. In their minds there could be no doubt about who would lay slain on the ground when the last blow was struck.

The first to try and shed her lifeblood was armed with the signature weapon of the Draconian guard, the spiked war hammer. A blow from it could shatter bone, crush meat and pierce armor. This she knew and as the blow came she parried it and then using her upper body strength she pushed away and kicked at her opponent knees, hoping to of set his balance and give her a opening.
But as she did the rider accepted the blow and returned the favour by punching her square in the face with a mailed fist. She tumbled backwards and almost landed on top of Charsi who was struggling with another rider who tried to break her guard down by a steady rain of blows and jabs.
Getting back up with blod running down her lips from her ruined nose she felt the familiar berserker rage welling up in her, it threatened to overwhelm and consume her mind. She could not see the face of her foe but she knew he must be smiling under that silvery death mask. Launching a rapid series of side long swipes and underhanded blows aimed at his waistline and groin she pressed him hard. Then the pale rider was betrayed by his feet, he slipped and thus left himself vulnerable to a blow. The broad axe head caught him square in the neck and carried on downwards into his torso, the man fell without a sound. Only the steady trickle of blood and a faint gurgling sound coming from a ruined windpipe signaled he was dying. Pulling hard on the axe to rip it free she realized she could not yank it free fast enough, now several enemies where advancing on her and she was weapon less until she saw the war hammer her now dead opponent had dropped.
Then she was lost in a swirling battle for her life, the rain of blows seemed endless and when she struck she connected as often as her blows where blocked, parried or dodged.
Several times she felt steel kiss her body as the foes nicked and cut her, then one fell away with her hammer embedded in his stomach, he wailed in pain as she ripped it free. The grey ropes that spilled out of his torn stomach made her think of rotten sausages or massive greyish worms.
Intercepting a mailed hand that reached for her hair she swung the hammer down and caused the owner of the hand to cry out in pain as the steel head ruined bone and flesh.
Daring to cast a look at Charsi she saw the woman wrestling with a knight who sat on top of her pouring down blows and attempting to bring his knife to bear.
Know her companion was hopelessly outclassed she attempted to break free and come to her aid. But to no avail the circle of steel and rage around her had closed and she was too busy keeping her own opponents at bay.

Charsi felt the crushing grip of the rider pinning her down and knew she was soon dead or out of the fight if she could not get free.
Determined not to die on her backside in some misbegotten part of the world she made a finale effort and put all her strength into a desperate move, she threw her feet up and managed to snag her foe and thus bringing him of balance for a split second. Capitalizing on this she lunged upwards and wrapped her arms around his neck.
With a grip fuelled by panic and desperation she yanked his head sharply to one side, and was rewarded with a sickening crunch of bone. As if someone had taken a sledge hammer to his head the rider fell over her and pinned her down under his substantial weight.
Pinned down she realized that the man reeked of blood, sweat and something else that she could not put words on.
She heaved and lifted to get the now dead rider of her and with a determined howl she tossed him of her. Getting up winded and somewhat dizzy she picked up the weapon she had dropped and grabbed the shield.
Almost by chance she happened to look up to the sky where she saw a glimmering speck of light descend.

Very good, though doing blow and it dripping from her nose is not sending a right message to any kids reading

Left it on a bit of a cliff hanger I see, but even if they survive, will the wounds suffered by Ashild be all too much for her to bear?

 Themanwiththeplan wrote:
Very good, though doing blow and it dripping from her nose is not sending a right message to any kids reading

Left it on a bit of a cliff hanger I see, but even if they survive, will the wounds suffered by Ashild be all too much for her to bear?

Oh god.....I really should stop posting when I'm that tired Stay tuned to see what happens next.

I found it amusing that she found the time, what with satisfying her lover and being on the run and all. Though it does explain her berserk rages and rampant sex life.

Never underestimate what people on the run can make work in short time, or when under pressure I suppose

Nicely done, as always.

Hurry up with the next part - you can't leave the lasses in the lurch!

High above the unfolding drama the hawk soared on strong winds. It saw the ones its master had sent it to watch-over fighting for their lives, and by the look of things it would not be long before it was over, one way or the other.
Its eyes glimmered as if by witch craft, telling its master what it saw. And the master took stock of these sights and ordered his winged minion to make haste and find the one who had been sent north.
With a high pitched screech the bird dove down at speeds unreachable by any other winged predator as it skimmed over the tree tops while its ruby red eyes scanned the land below.
Soon enough it found what it had been searching for, riding a pale horse came the warrior sent north to guide the pair to his master.
He rode his massive war horse hard, and the animal snorted as its iron shod hooves kicked up earth.
The bird swooped down low and flew beside the man with little effort. Its shimmering feathers reflecting the morning light on it's silvered form.
The lone hunters face was as set in stone as he cast a look at the bird while steering his mount around a cops of rocks in the path he was taking. But it was clear he understood what it wanted, for as the bird altered course, he did so too.
Over moss covered forest floor and across ice cold streams he rode, knowing time was all but spent.

Looking behind him he saw the sons of the wild, running like wolves to keep up with the hard pace he had set. Their blue painted bodies seemed to blend with the woodlands, giving them a look of almost unearthly graze. But he knew there was no graze or anything unnatural about them. They looked to wreck havoc upon those who had stirred their ancestral tribal rivals to the north into a blood and booze filled fury.
Then suddenly the forest opened up and he saw them for the first time since that fateful day on the fields of woe. They looked to him like black clad carrion waiting to devour their now fallen prey, but by the gods they would die before he would allow anyone to fall into their bloodstained hands.
Notching a arrow, he pulled back the string on his recurved bow, and then he let the arrow fly with a piercing shriek.

Ashild lay on her back, blood seeping out from a large gash on her left leg, and her left arm hurt like it was on fire. She tried and tried to muster the strength to rise, but her body could or would not obey her commands. Around here lay several dead or dying knights who had been felled by her hammer like blows, or died when her hands had snapped bone and crushed the life from them. Watching the light die from their eyes with satisfaction.
But in the end their blows had laid her low. Leaving her feeling the life force had sustained though the years she had wandered the world slowly ebb from her her broken form.
As she lay there, she felt tears well down her face and trickle down her bloodied and bruised face.
Her hand that still worked feebly reached for Charsi, who lay face down in the moss. The girl had fought like a devil, taking more than her fair share of the bastards with her before overwhelming her guard and striking her down. She lived still, but seemed to have a hard time focusing. The once beautiful face was now a hideous mixture of blood, open cuts and large black bruises that was starting to form below the skin.
With blood and spit running down her cheeks as she feebly reached for her hand, gripping it like she was afraid she would fade away.

“Lets be done with this, defile them both and leave them for the vultures when your done! Make it a horrid experience for their part though” he said and snorted with laughter.

As the other riders begun to close ranks around the prone women one of them suddenly jerked as if hit by a unseen hand. Then he began to gurgle blood and with a pained rasp as he fell backwards. Jutting out of his armoured chest a long barbed arrow with a wickedly barbed arrow head could be seen.
Then in rapid succession two more fell to the unseen foe, both men screaming in pain as the barbed arrows cut them down.
“Come out you damned cowards!” their leader yelled while he gripped the reins of his own horse.
But the man would regret those words, for just as he had spoken a eerie war cry sounded, and out of the woods came a man mounted on a pale horse at the head of a screaming and hooting band of Picts painted with their characteristic woad lead by a giant of their own kind.

To the riders it must have seen like a Stygian reborn as an avenging spirit had summoned these new foes into the fray. But if they where afraid it did not show, they closed ranks and lowered their long slender lances and awaited their foes charge.
Leading this band of warriors came a bear like Pict stepping fourth and raising his gore stained copper axe, Clearly the leader of this band of woodland warriors, pointing to the enemy and beating his chest with one ham sized fist while howling like the animal he resembled and thus the war band begun to sprint forwards.
The riders who could not reach their horses in time to mount up and mount a charge of their own closed ranks, with shields and cold steel raised they awaited the frothing woods men.
The Stygian ran beside the howling Picts with his curved sword drawn. It felt heavy but yet familiar in his hands. He scanned the enemy line for the one he had set his eyes on.
Then with great force the two bands of men crashed together in a symphony of ringing steel, the screams of the wild men and the utter silence save for the rise and fall of the steel the Draconian guard wielded.

He saw a Pict get split from head to groin by a sword blow from a knight, and one dark clad man get mobbed by several Picts who tore him literary limb from limb.
Then he found himself face to face with one of the death mask wearing devils, he swung hard and low hoping to make his enemy loose his footing as much attempting to take his legs clean of. But the rider was not phased by this, he blocked with his shield and slammed his hammer down hard and forced the Stygian to jump clear with only a inch to spare as the hammerhead slammed into the ground.
They traded blows like mad, each one of them hoping to end it fast and then move on to the next in line to die.
The end came when he rider has to dodge a spear that flew trough the air, and thus lost his focus for a split second. But that was all his opponent needed, the shimmering curved blade flashed in a downward arch and bit deep into his neck with a wet smack.
He staggered for a moment then fell down with deep crimson blood pooling out from the ugly wound that gaped where the blade had bitten him.
His killer did not spend a moment to watch him die, instead the man was busy trading blows with a sword wielding rider who had cut down several Picts in the span of a few moments.

He recognized this one, it was clear he was the leader of this band of cut-throat and wanton murders!
“Stand and face your doom pale one” he yelled and swung at the man with his blade, the swipe went wide as the rider parried and swung back with his own gore splattered blade.
Raising his sword to block the warrior was awestruck by the sheer force behind the blow, it made his arm tingle with pain and the speed it also came at was another thing to mind.
As the moments flew past him he found himself being pushed backwards and the rain of blows treated to overwhelm him.
Desperately dodging and weaving he launched a series of swooping slashes and downward strikes aimed at buying him time as much as hopefully doping harm to his foe who steadily gained ground on him.
But then his luck ran out, the shield if his foe slammed into him and sent him reeling to the bloodstained grass, his foe raised his sword to end him when a enormous shadow fell over him.
Towering above the rider as a bear might loom over a lone foolish hunter the Pictish chieftain snarled as the wild beast he looked like.
The rider looked positively unsettled by this and seemed to forget the winded and stunned Stygian warrior who he had been a mere thought away from killing with his own blade.
Before the surprised rider could react the bear like man delivered a blow that sent him flying, hefting his weapon the Pict stalked over to the now prone rider and his steel grey eyes seemed to pierce him and bind him to the ground.
Speaking with a low rumbling tone he spoke.
“You bring noting but death and suffering pale devil! These are our lands and our woods.”
bending down he gripped the rider with one massive fist and hauled him up so he was levelled with the face of the chieftain.
The rider attempted to bring his dagger to bear but his left wrist was broken like a twig by the brute holding him in a crushing grip.
“You will all die for this! No where will be able to shelter you, mark my words heathen!” the rider said with hate dripping from every word.
“Growl all you want child murder!” was the response he got.

The Stygian who now was on his feet looked at the scene unfolding before him. A thin smile revealed that he was far from unsettled by he knew what was coming for the rider, around him the fighting had died down and the ruined and mangled corpses of both Picts and Draconian Guards lay all around him.
The stench of death and ruined guts hung heavy in the misty morning air that was rapidly being heated by the sun that was climbing a partially cloudy sky.

The Pict chief still gripping the now disabled rider in his hands called out to his still standing clansmen.
“Fetch the hounds and feed this whore son to them!” he said and grinned a fiendish grimace as the sound of baying hounds could be heard in the distance.

As these events unfolded Charsi awoke with dots of white dots obscuring her vision s she fumbled about for something to support herself on.
She knew she was hurt although not how bad she was wounded in that savage and frightening encounter. Somehow finding the strength to push herself up so she stood on her knees her eyes drank in the grim scene that meet her.
Ashild lay beside her with a ugly gash in her leg and countless minor cuts and bruises, her dark brown hair stained with blood and her axe buried in the skull of a man that lay at her feet face down.
She fumbled to reach her and felt to her relief that her lover was still breathing albeit it with some effort.
Then her blood and hearth froze at the sight that meet her eyes when she looked up from the still woman at her side.
A band of Picts covered in gore and with the blue woad covering her body was drawing near lead by a giant of a man.
Fearing they had come trough the fire only to die by the hands of these savages she cursed, and felt tears tingle down her cheeks. But just before despair set in a smooth voice interrupted her thoughts.
“Calm yourself my lady, they mean you no harm.”
Turning around she saw the man who had spoken, clad in glittering golden armour and with copper toned skin he was definitely from the north she decided. Not did he have any weapons in his hands on his person.
“ I can see you do not trust me, I will not blame you for it either.” he said and called out to the approaching Picts and raising one bloodstained hand.
The tribesmen where brought to a stop by one raised hand from their chief.
Kneeling by Ashild he looked at the wounds she had received and a worried look took hold on his face. It was clear to her then, for the moment she had no choice than to trust this strange individual who kept somewhat questionable company. She hoped the man was trained in the arts of healing as she stumbled down when her strength failed her, for they both would need it should they hope to live to see another day to rise with the sun.

Their unexpected saviour set about tending to their wounds with a practised hand, although he did not do it completely by himself. The Picts brought fire wood and left several roughly sewn but good enough cloaks for the two wounded women to lay on. But they kept their distance and not one of them threw hungry looks on the naked female forms that where visible in the light from the fire that roared as the Stygian tended to their batherd forms.
When the day drew to an end he layed down the remedies he had been applying to mend the two now sleeping women.
He cursed the foul mongrels who had given them these wounds, those men should praise whatever primitive and pelt clad god they prayed to that their where dead by now. And when it came to the captain well......the memories of the man who had wailed like a infant when the hounds had ripped him apart and devoured his guts while he still lived. Well they where more than enough to motivate him to keep going, even if his body was screaming for rest.