A new encounter

[Haldour]

I say, let's go ahead and turn this into a rp here on the boards. I am reposting this intro here, so if you want to join in feel free.


The fog had grown thicker and thicker for what seemed like days, but in all honesty it could have been only a few hours. Whatever the time span, Haldour was becoming impatient to clear the seemingly impenetrable blanket surrounding his small fleet of longships. He stood at the front of the lead ship, leaning on the long neck of the carved dragonhead bow. He strained his eyes yet again, hoping for a glimpse of something other than grey.

"This cursed fog is beginning to try my patience" he thought to himself. They had set out in their ships to raid some of the coastal towns only a short voyage away only a few days earlier. At least, he suspected it was a few days. No sooner had they reached the sea than the all-enveloping fog had enclosed around them. They had attempted to make for the shore that should have only been a few hundred yards away, but the land wasn't there. So they had simply sailed on, no oars, just allowing whatever unearthly wind propelled them to take them onward. Now, many of the men began to despair, fearing they would never come out of it.

Just as he was about to give in and try to get some sleep, the fog mysteriously vanished as quickly and unexpectedly as it had appeared. As soon as his eyes adjusted to the bright daylight that now assaulted them, he made a gesture and the oars were extended. In a matter of moments they had made land on the shore of the narrow inlet they now found themselves in. Haldour looking at his surroundings, and quickly realized that the land he was viewing was none he had ever seen before.

All at once he remembered the stories his father had told him when he was a small boy; stories of a mysterious land, ripe with plunder. Stories of arriving by mysterious means, meeting mysterious people and creatures, and finally returning through a mysterious gate. He had always dismissed these stories as little more than exaggerated tales designed to entertain him, but as he gazed at the horizon around him, he realized that this was that land. A smirk crept across the young Clanmaster's face at the thought of his father's tales being true. Now he could follow his father's footsteps yet again, and acquire great riches here.

As the last of his men's ships pulled up on shore and his warriors piled out of them, he set to work at once.

"Alright you men, get to work and gather some wood for fires. That stand of trees there looks good. You men there, bring out the food supplies. We'll see if we can't find something to eat in these woods for tonight, but if not we'll be at regular rations of salted pork and mead.

He turned to his trusted jarls with a smile. A hint of concern was in their eyes, but an eagerness and excitement were the dominant emotions on their faces. He nodded to them and they immediately set to work gathering their favorite troops and gearing up. Each of them headed in a different directions into the terrain. If the riches that his father spoke of existed in this land, he would soon know it...

[Sir Nichtmar]

Nichtmar and Firoth had come back from Nichtmar’s homeland, an island west of the mainland. They camped near the west shore. The morning birds sung their song as they gathered their gear, they were lightly armed. Suddenly the birds were frightened. Hammering rang from near the coast. Firoth and Nichtmar snuck towards the sound, voices of men pierced the serenity of nature. They scanned the men, they were building camp.

Firoth whispered, “Vikings I believe…”

“It’s him…”

Nichtmar saw the face, the face he saw so long ago, the face that killed his tribe. A fire sprung within his ogre chest. Nothing else mattered at the moment, he would have his revenge, he had no control of himself, he let loose. He tore off his pack, and grabbed his sword and dagger, the only weapons he had brought. He charged on with no care for discretion, he saw the opening on is target, one man stepped in the way, Nichtmar greeted him by shoving his dagger in his gut and continued. He was close to the face now. His sword raised ready to strike him down, the man was not ready, and he would surely fall. Nichtmar cared not if his own life was lost, but he did not see the bearded man coming to counter his charge. He was slammed by a shield charge that sent him twirling into a stack of crates. He shook it off, and began to charge again, but was grabbed and disarmed by the men, forced to his knees and a blade held to his throat.

Firoth remained hidden, “Damnit, Nichtmar.”

[Haldour]

Haldour looked down at the large humanoid now kneeling before him. He was winded and huffing and puffing, but out of tiredness or rage, Haldour could not tell. He looked around at his men, many had armed themselves, ready for any order.

"Who have we here?" the Clanmaster questioned.

The large humanoid did not answer. He just glared up at Haldour.

"Well, what are you then, if you'll not tell me who you are."

Again, no answer. Haldour looked over at the body of one of his men being dragged closer to the camp, the wound in his stomach bled profusely and he was squirming in agony. With a nod of his head one of his raiders drew his axe and cut off the man's head, ending his misery.

"You've killed one of my warriors stranger. Where I come from, that means you must pay a Wergild. You have cost me a strong, faithful warrior. His price will be high to pay."

The large humanoid continued to stare, not making a sound. Haldour sighed. He looked up at the tree line. Any time now his Jarls would return with information. For now, though, he would like to get it from a native.

"Well, if you will not pay it willingly, then blood for blood is acceptable. And we will take whatever possessions you have as plunder. So what will it be?"

Haldour waits for the response of the large humanoid.

[Sir Nichtmar]

The sweat trickles into his eye, awaking him from his bloodlust. He has no words for this man. Only death he wishes to give him. The rage swells so bad it hurts. His words explode with hate.

“This man’s blood is not nearly the payment you owe me for my family and tribe that you SLAUGHTERED!”

Tears and drool poor from his face his, his teeth showing as he longs for his steel. His eyes find his gladius, he yanks toward it, but is pulled back by the men.

[Haldour]

Haldour stoops down and grabs the prisoner by the front of his shirt.

"Reach for that sword again and you'll lose your hand."

He releases the shirt and stands back up.

"Now listen to me. I have raided many villages in my life, but I have never seen this place, nor your kind. I don't know what you are. If you insist on acting like a threat, I'll kill you now and be done with it."

Haldour squeezes the pommel of the sword hanging from his belt. He looks off towards the tree line and sees the return of his Jarls. As the come closer he notices that one of the men is dragging someone from the bushes.

"Hmm, did you have a friend with you? It seems my advisers have caught him spying."

Haldour notices is change in the brute's appearance for a split second. It looked like concern.

"Ah, well perhaps you will be more cooperative knowing your friend's life is in danger as well. Face it, the only way the two of you walk away from here alive is if I allow you to. Otherwise, you both go to whatever end you believe in."

Haldour looks down at his prisoner thoughtfully.

"Now, I ask again. Who are you, what are you, and where are we."

[Sir Nichtmar]

He shakes his head as Firoth is dragged near them and looks back at the man. With hate in his voice, “Nichtmar is my name. Your feet rest upon the northwestern coast of The Land Between the Land and it is here where you will answer for your wicked ways. You are no threat here, perhaps to some of the smaller villages, but soon word would spread to Aethenu, Northern Steppes, Mittelmarch, Dragonspyre or Dunland. Find yourself south and you will surely die in the forest of Fangorn. Here we are all allies, unless you find yourself with the Jovians, they may welcome you.”

Nichtmar laughs with sarcasm.

“For too long we are gone and soldiers of Mittelmarch will be coming, we are expected back. Kill me if you wish, in my death you will be hunted.”

[Haldour]

Haldour ponders the words of the stranger.

"If things are as you say, then you are much more useful to me alive. You say your people will come for you soon. To me that means you must be of importance. Chances are you'll fetch a hefty ransom, and I'm not above an easy haul."

He turns to one of the Jarls, heavily bearded and armored, and speaks to him in a low voice. The Jarl nods his head and Nicthmar and Firoth are bound with thick ropes, thick enough that even the sizable strength of the prisoner won't be able to break them.

"Pack up men, we're not camping here after all."

Within a matter of twenty minutes all the gear and and rations are re-packed, and the viking band is headed in the direction of the town that the scouts located. The prisoners are forced along beside the clanmaster.

"So. Where is this city of yours? I'd very much like to return you to it."

[Suihaden]

(OOC) I have permission from Haldour to participate
(IC)
Suihaden sauntered down the path, enjoying the sun in the trees. It was a fine day for a walk and maybe, if he was lucky, he would meet Nichtmar and Firoth on their way back from their quest. Little did he know how close they were.

As he neared a bend in the path he heard a tramp of many feet, he stopped, puzzled.

"Who could that be? There aren't any patrols out right now, no armies unless it is the Jovians; I better duck in to those woods and see who is comming."

Quickly he reversed his black cloak to green and threw himself down behind a tree root, then waited. The tramping grew louder, then the cause rounded the bend. What he saw almost made him gasp. A band of Vikings marched four abreast down the path and between them bound with heavy ropes were Nichtmar and Firoth.

"Ive got to get back to Mittelmarch and get help." Sui thought.

Then as fast as he could he ran through the woods towards the town, hoping the barbarians would not see him.

[Sir Nichtmar]

Nichtmar doesn't struggle, he looks to Firoth. "There's nothing to fear we will be fine, say something already."

After he hand are bound, Nichtmar begins to lead them to Mittelmarch.

"I am more than happy to lead you to our home," he chuckles a little.

"I'm sure they will have a warm welcome for those who would capture one of their leaders and seasoned soldier."

He walks briskly in front, "Come now, we should not be late."

[Haldour]

Haldour and the rest of the warband continue on their trek towards the city. As they draw closer the fat prisoner seems to have a smug sense about him.

"I'm not sure what you think will happen" Hadour spoke to him, "but I assure you that any military action your people take will be met with utter ruin. These men are the finest warriors I have ever seen. All of them have years of combat experience. We're not merely a rabble of looters."

The smug look seemed to fade a little before returning, and Haldour grinned slightly to himself.

"How much further is it."

[Suihaden]

Suihaden had never run so fast. His heart was pounding against his chest and sweat trickled down his forehead. In his haste he did not see a protruding root and went flying down on his face. A moment later he was up, but a sharp pain in his ankle stoped him.

“Curst be the tree that grew ye!” Sui shouted in frustration.

He looked around him; he cannot hope to beat the Barbarians to Mittelmarch now, not on a sprained ankle.

“What should I do now?” he mused. His sling gives him an idea. “I’ll cause a diversion and draw them off the path so Nichtmar or Firoth can escape.”

Suihaden hoped into the woods on the side of the road and places a stone in his sling. Soon the sound of tramping reached him.

“This better work.” Sui thought.

When the Vikings reached the path in front of him, he swung his sling and sent a stone flying in to the helmet of a tall Jarl next to Nichtmar. It hit with a sharp Pang!
Sui smiled grimly, he may not be able to kill any; but by St. John, they would know they had been in a fight!

[Sir Nichtmar]

Nichtmar hears the sudden impact of the stone on the helm. While the attention on them is off, he darts for the direction it from whence it came.

“Sui, where’s the rest!”

“Cut the rope!”

He turns his bound hands towards Sui.

[Suihaden]

With one quick movement Sui whipped out his dagger and severed the ropes that bound Nichtmar. Placing it in Nichtmar's huge hand he shouted. "There aren't any others, I sprained my ankle and I can't run."

[Haldour]

As the Jarl with the now dinged helmet and ringing ears clutches his head, Haldour points in the direction they ran.

"Go after them, and if you find them, break their ankles!"

With that about 20 of the warriors turn and run into the forest, shields up and weapons drawn.

[Sir Nichtmar]

Nichtmar hears the heavy tromp heading their way.

“Not Good,” he whispers.

He looks toward the sound of men getting closer and then to the vastness of the forest. The face of his father’s killer flashes in his mind. The darkness in his heart begins to seep through. He doesn’t know it, but the rage he felt at the beach cracked the seal that held the darkness that Telemachus put there.

“We won’t make it, Sui…”

He thinks it, but doesn’t say it, o O (...unless I left you here to die.)

“Sui, give me your sword. When the men come, keep them busy. I will flank the leader and hopefully kill him.”

[Sir Nichtmar]

As Nichtmar felt a hint of despair, knowing the viking warriors would soon be on their tails, he cast his eyes up to the heavens, wishing for some help - even just a hint of a sign.

"Wait!"

He blinked, his eyes fixing on a tree branch that had just moved. An eyebrow raised and he squinted into the tall peaks of the tree. The skinny branch shook again and Nichtmar saw the falcon clearly, its brilliant plumage marking it as a carrier falcon of Aethenu, the birds trained in honor of the beloved Aethenric phoenix.

Nichtmars says, "Ahh...what is it. The word. The phrase." He spoke to himself, trying to remember the Aethenric phrase to call the bird.

Sui, "What Nichtmar?" Sui had heard his whispers. "Nichtmar, we cannot delay, we must move on!"

"Sey..lee...Say..lon...seyl..se...seyla. SEYLA!" The war cry of Aethenu sprung from his lips as the flacon sprung from its perching, landing swiftly directly on Nichtmars shoulder. "Sui!, paper, ink, anything!"

[Frost]

*A bird call answered before Sui could react, and the flacon took quick flight from Nichtmars shoulder, off into the brush. Crying out in despair, Nichtmar believes their last chance for escape has just been lost*

"Paper and ink wont be necessary, my friend," the falcon emerges again on the arm of a hooded and cloaked figure. Frost shakes his head from the shadow of the hood, revealing himself. "I cant leave you alone for any amount of time, can I?" turning to address Sui "Greetings, friend. It is Sui, isnt it? its been a while since you visited my lands" Turning to hear the tromp of the viking raiders, Frost returns to the situation at hand.

"You seem to be in a bit of trouble. Follow us. Frost quickly turns, the falcon takes flight, and four other cloaked figures emerge from the brush, two heading for Sui, holding him under the arms as they make their way north west, the Thunder Mountains of the Aethenric not far off. "We have an outpost not far from here, we can bandage anything that needs to be repaired there."*

[Haldour]

After several minutes of searching, the warriors return to Haldour empty handed.
"My clanmaster, the prisoner escaped. There are several sets of footprints leading away, but they vanish".

Haldour sets his jaw and clenches the hilt of his sword. After a few minutes of thinking his face softens again and he turns to his Jarls.
"Well, we still have one of them. It's a bargaining tool if nothing else. Let's head for the nearest town we can find."

Several scouts are sent out, and the nearest little village is located. Withing twenty minutes they head out, prisoner in tow.

[Sir Nichtmar]

Nichtmar shakes Frost's arm. "My friend, thank you. We must get back to Mittelmarch. Thanks for the horses."

Sui and Nichtmar mount their rides.

Nichtmar turns to Frost for a moment, "Tell Greybeard I may need his help with something."

Nichtmar turns to the road, kicks his horse, and takes off towards Mittelmarch.

[greybeardabbot]

It is dawn, The Abbot of Aethenu is at prayer. He yawns in the still cool air of the early morning, the dew hangs in the air of the stone Abby of St. Sebastian. Greybeard bends his will to the task at hand, and yet it seems on this overcast dawn, that any distraction would be welcome. heart and soul find themselves at odds. So it is not unexpected that the flash of red and brown catches his eyes at the high window. Perched there in near silence stood Sarjent. He will not enter unless bid by his friend.

Looking up over the Altar, Greybeard say's absently, "Amen" as he motions with the finger of this right hand to come down to him. With a cry of nobility Sarjent answers and the Falcon floats easily to rest on Greybeard's left arm, held out to him.

"What have we here friend?" Greybeard inquires as if the bird truly understood his words. The wild fowl bows its majestic head and allows Greybeard to remove a small scrap of yellow brown vellum, a parchment made from animal hide. It was tied with a red yarn and born the mark of Varian Frost.

"Vikings in the Northwest Lands. 60 or more --strong. 2 days.
On Riveroad heading east. NM asks your help."

Greybeard is now wide a wake and focused on the meaning of these words. Absently he lets Sarjent go, much the the bird's displeasure at being released without praise. But Greybeard continues to read the note as he walks slowly out of the chapel. He finds himself standing outside in the Abby's entry courtyard, scanning for any members of the Aethenric whom he might press to follow him. But the Abby is a far distance from the Great Hall and the dawn is cold and damp. It begins to drizzle as the dew point rises and the air chills.

Greybeard wraps his cloak about him and heads uphill to the stable. At the far end is the Abbot's mount a great dark gray 6yr-old percheron. GB keeps his saddlebags packed for a fortnights journey. And so walks down the empty rows of stalls with the intention to saddle-up. He keeps a locker in the stable room and there he keeps a set of garb, armor and weapons. As he enters we notices a bed is occupied.
"Lord Furey?"

Furey wakes to greet his friend... "Greybeard! Your a sight for empty eyes! Here I return from my quest to find no one home. It's a lonely welcome."

Greybeard: Pray! Faith! You've returned.
Furey: Aye, so... where is everybody?
Greybeard: The season is still early... most are still on their own lands. It's been lonely here true for sure... but welcome my Lord. Your arrive is timely. Frost informs me by Sarjent that men have come-a Viking.

With in an few hours... for this reunion must take time... Greybeard and Furey are on the road north west to River road. Sarjent has been dispatched once more with a plea for aid, and a prayer that it comes answered.

Abbot: "We must ride as scout and reconnoiter. Keep a weather eye to the front"
Furey: "We must move with some stealth, it's Frost or Nictmar we wish to meet first."
Abbot: "The Viking seeks to plunder, no doubt... he will move from village to village. The Bridge at Milvan might be our best hope to stop them. The river is deep, the current is swift and the bridge is narrow."
Furey: But the field on either side is wide and open. No defensive cover.
Abbot: I don't think archers when I think Vikings. Besides baggers can't be choosers... open field or not, the bridge is narrow and they must cross it."
Furey: Must they?

They ride on with the good question dangling.

[Haldour]

Night begins to fall on the Warband as they approach the town. They have worked their way towards it hugging the tree line for some four miles. It is unlikely anyone in this unsuspecting town has any way to put up a real defense anyway, but the element of surprise is often the key to victory. At last they are within a half mile of the town's outskirts, and the sun has begun to sink below the line of trees. The raiders know they are all but invisible from the homes before them. Haldour turns to a few of his men and mutters to them. Without hesitation they grab the remaining prisoner and drag him into the woods. He is bound to a sturdy tree and in such a fashion that he could certainly not escape without help. The men turn to marking their faces with the special paint they brought. Red and black and brown and blue, each man paints designs to dehumanize himself and strike terror into his victims.

Finally, as the last beams of the sun's light arch their way over the tree line, Haldour gives the command and his troops break into a jog towards the town. As they grow nearer their pace quickens. Now they are within 200 yards of the town, and they break into a run. As the last 100 yards begins a great shout rises up from the host of warriors. With their painted faces twisted into expressions of rage they charge into the small town. A shriek can be heard as a woman carrying a basket of bread knocked flat by a shield and then slashed through the throat with a sword. The townsfolk are caught completely unaware, and within a matter of minutes the entire town has been swept. Most were slaughtered, but a few unlucky souls that begged for mercy were taken as slaves. The Warband set about pillaging through the contents of the homes and buildings, gathering anything valuable in the center of town. There Haldour stands with his Jarls inspecting each new addition to the haul.

"This is very good" Haldour says to his Jarls with a grin.
"There was almost no fight, and yet quite a significant haul. The legends my father told me of a land ripe for plunder were true."

He turns to some of this men that have just brought a chest full of silver plates and goblets to the haul.
"Go and drag the dead ones out of the town and pile them just there. *he points to a spot outside of town* Let the vultures feast tonight, the first of many to come if I have anything to say about. Oh, and have our new slaves help you."

The handful of Vikings and the enslaved villagers set about dragging the corpses out of town. Haldour once again turns to speak to his Jarls.

"We'll set up camp here tonight. Set a fire here in the town center. Get a watch order set for the night. Have men rotate so all can get some sleep. We'll head back out in the morning."

[Kotaro]

The dark figure in the shadows watches the band drag the corpses away, feeling anger with every one dropped on the pile. They may not be his people, but they were mere villagers, unable to defend themselves against the marauders. I must inform Tatsumura-dono of this new threat, he thinks as he moves silently away from the scene of carnage.

[Sir Nichtmar]

The sound of thunderous hooves beat the ground as Nichtmar and Sui chase for Mittelmarch. They stop by Dunland. Dunland rests at the pass through the Iron Mountains.

"Guard!"

Readying his spear, "Who are you!?"

"No time! Tell Sir Brogas and Anvil to be on their guard. Vikings have landed on the west coast. Oh and tell Dragonspire."

They ride through the pass, and finally make it to Mittelmarch.

Exhausted from the very long ride, Nichtmar passes through the gate. He looks to the stable master.

"See to the horse."

He kind of slides off the horse. He stops at a man filling his bucket at the well.

"Give me that." He shoves the man, taking the bucket.

Pouring the water on his face, some in his mouth. He tosses the bucket behind him and marches for the main hall.

"My liege! Isen!"

The rage still in his veins, the site of that viking. He sees in his mind his father's kind face, then the ax that cleaved him, and then the face of his killer.

"ISEN!!!"

[Suihaden]

Gingerly dismounting, Suihaden leads his horse to the stable and removes the saddle and rubs it down. After giving it feed and water he limps out of the stable to his lodging where he changes the bandage on his ankle and donns his armor. He slips on chaimail hauberk, laces on greaves, straps on shield, sword, and picking up helment and lance he steps back to the street. He has one thought

"Find Kotaro."

[Kotaro]

Kotaro slid open the door to the council chamber of Kyuden Tatsumura. Shogun Tatsumura Masamune sat in conference with the other daimyos of the Tou Fuu Shogunate, speaking in hushed tones. The shinobi gingerly placed his katana on the rack by the door, stepped forward to the shogun and said simply,

"My lord, we have a problem."