RP:An Eventful Day for Emi

Desolate Lands, Venturil

Raidh really shouldn’t be here. The Kingdom is in upheaval, half the eastern farmlands have been overturned, there are wounded everywhere who could use her aid in the healing-rooms, and the fields in which some survivors still lie. The monstrosity which has ravaged Venturil uprooted itself like a rotten tooth, leaving a bloody and gaping wound in its wake. But here is Raidh on the mare Nidrun, who is pacing the dust at the borders of the dwarf lands while her rider keeps sharp watch for the return of her King. She is armoured and bearing weapons, for opportunistic looters and other vermin, drawn as they ever are to the wake of such destruction, have been filing steadily into the city’s outer limits to pick over whatever poor fare the already beleagured farmers have left behind. Raidh’s heart is a hammer in her chest, for she knows Eboric bears on his own horse the cause of all this carnage.. Many prayers leave her lips now, and from the lips of Raidh they are not idle mouthings.

Emilia had been ordered to stay out of trouble by a friend of hers who also happened to govern over one of the cities of the land. In an attempt to keep under her order, but still have some adventure Emilia made her way along the road west out of the dwarven city. A rumor to her about a terrible event that had happened down this way was the cause of her arrival here. A curious human with a knack for finding trouble when she wasn’t looking for it. She shouldn’t be here. No, the farm girl should be back in Gualon or Kelay where trouble was less likely to happen. Leather boots made light sounds on the ground as she traveled along. Denim jeans tucked into her boots with a button down long sleeve plaid shirt made for poor protection while entering a land recently torn a blunder. Her bow was on her back a weapon she was well skilled with and only a seconds grasp away. Careful steps. Where was she going she wasn’t exactly sure, but she was going somewhere. Blonde curls fell into her face hiding blue eyes and freckled cheeks which held a handprint shaped bruise on one.

Hoofbeats thud behind Emilia, swift and loudly. Raidh’s skeggox, the bearded and long-handled axe borne in her hand, is already bloody with the brain-matter of thieves, and this is what she bears in one fist as she urges Nidrun to ride Emilia down. “You, girl!” she shouts, dismounting from her mare so smoothly that she hits the ground already in the forceful stride with which she now approaches. Raidh is tall and slender, her features mostly obscured behind helmet and mail. Her eyes though are visible, blue as summer skies and fixed upon the farm-girl. The shieldmaiden’s voice is harsh with urgency, “You should be in the camps at the city.” She lifts the hooked head of her axe, for proof of peril. “Most of the king’s men are there, keeping order. The Riddarnir are slaying thieves out here.. “ Those blue eyes narrow on Emilia for a moment, then relax; Raidh is apparently satisfied that Emilia is not a looter, and also convinced she is a local. “Come,” she gestures with the axe toward her mare, “I will ride you back to the keep and your people there. Have you skill with the wounded? There’s many, and if you can wind a bandage and wield a needle and catgut, there’s families who’d be grateful.”

Emilia was quick to come to a halt as the sound of hoof beats get louder from behind her. It was that with a mix of the voice that calling out to her as ‘girl’ that got her attention. Slowly she pivoted around to face that which the voice came from. Wide eyed as she stared at the weapon which she held in her hand. Had she just found trouble which she was ordered to stay away from? Surely not. Hands that were already bruised and cut lifted into the air slowly, open to show a sign that she meant no harm. As slender as the woman was she was intimidating to the short underweight human farm-girl. As she spoke about your people and camps of the city she raised a brow, clearly confused as to what she was referring to. Emi had never been this far west before. Her hands trembled just a bit as she lowered them back down to her sides only when she was sure that Raidh wasn’t going to bash her head in with that weapon of hers. “Miss, I don’t know what you mean. I don’t have people nor do I know what camp you are speaking of. I’ve not gone camping in a very long time, Miss.” A worried look on her face when she brings up wounded people. “I have never done much with fixing a person up. Cattle and horses I’ve mended. I suppose that a person isn’t all that different, no?”

On any other day Raidh might’ve entered more gentle conversation with Emilia, for any friend of horses is looked upon kindly by the Riddarnir. Today the King is missing, a monster has torn a hole in the nation and things are not so conducive to niceties. “The people are not the only ones in need of care,” she says, though her gaze now leaves Emilia and scans the earth here once more, which is free of the damage evident in other portions of the nation. Avaldi said the horror from the east had crawled after Eboric but he had not said in which direction, probably to prevent his sister following. This direction obviously was not it, so south she’d go – and this wandering girl with her, if Raidh could help it, for she seemed a sensible sort and any aid is good in a disaster. “We ought to make haste if you’re coming. There’s…” Raiders, she means to say, ignoble barbarians from the outlying lands not yet under the King’s thumb. But she would not need to speak it, for there is a band of them right now, coming over the road’s short rise, careless and drunk, their arms filled with the meager treasures of farm-houses. There’s a husky shout from one of them, a filthy cur extolling the joys of finding two pretty maids all alone, only in far less polite language. His fellows, as filthy and rough as he, bark a few words and gusts of coarse laughter. Raidh grits her teeth, the axe twirling in her grip while Nidrun stamps the dusty ground and greets the looters with a sharp whinny of warning. “If that bow of yours isn’t just for show, girl, best you have my back,” the shieldmaiden mutters, as five men lurch toward them.

Emilia stood there listening to the words of this other woman that she didn’t know. Her heart ached for the people and animals that were in need in this part of the land. She knew nothing about the terror that came through his part of the land and nothing about its King. The farm girl did know what it is like to suffer from pain though. Some pains were not anything like this, but some were similar. She’d never wish it on others. If Raidh had wanted her to leave she would be hard pressed to get her to go now that she knew. Almost like a puppy she’d follow the woman with an aimless trust to help those that needed it. In the past it had gotten her in trouble, more trouble than she’d ever admit. It was then that haste was suggested when a group of those barbarians that she was about to mention showed up. Wide eyed with a bit of nerves dancing in her gut watching them approach. Emilia was good with her bow when it came to hunting or practice, but she’d never before struck another living being with it. Unlike, Raidh she was a farmer not a fighter or knight. Battle was not her skill. Before the first movement of the men coming their way the lithe farm girl had her bow in hand. It was not just for show. With half a second later there was an arrow in place, string pulled back. Her heart was racing with panic as she’d never been in this kind of situation before. Tristram would be so upset at her for breaking orders and getting into trouble, again. With the bow aimed she focused on the man that moved the fastest compared to the other four men. She watched with intent each move that he made. Each step and each swing of the arm. She watched how his bits of armor moved as he ran. Finally, re-aiming her arrow she let it loose. It flew through the air right at the man. With a sickening sound the arrow pieced the flesh in the side of his knee, lodging itself in place. A flinch on the human’s part as she loaded another arrow quickly. The man laughed at her, but with his next step of that foot he came crashing down to the ground unable to use that leg for weight now.

Raidh is sizing up the largest of the ruffians, a big black-bearded man in poorly kept leather armors no doubt stolen from somebody more worthy of them. He is arrogant, a bully, she can tell by the way the others defer to him, and his own brute expression – he thinks he and his men will make short work of these two girls. Wrong! As Emilia’s arrow thunks into one man’s leg, the shieldmaiden spares the farmgirl brief words of approval, “Good shot!” and steps a few paces away, closer to that leader of the barbarian band but far enough from Emilia that she won’t accidentally get hit in the head with that axe. The seggox, hooked and sharp, promises the man a dire maiming as Raidh swings it once for luck, then advances on him. There are four man left with legs to walk on and one’s occupied with Raidh, so that leaves the three which now round the outnumbered females. One makes a lunge at Emilia to distract her while his companions move behind her, obviously planning to grab and pin her from there. Sadly for them, the horses of the Riddarnir do not require riders in battle – they are trained to fight alone and bravely, and perhaps the men don’t realise just how much damage an angry plains-bred mare can do until Nidrun caves one man’s skull in with a swift kick, knocking the other over for a good trampling with her hard hooves when she’s done with his friend. This leaves just one man for Emilia to deal with, or possibly two if black-beard manages to shove his long-knife through the mail Raidh is wearing. He surely thinks he’s in with a chance – Raidh has played on his arrogance, and her first swing of the axe is ungainly and shears nothing but empty air. Filled with confidence that this armoured girl wouldn’t know killing from frying an egg, his steps into the thrust that he believes will stab her ribs, perhaps puncture a lung and leave her alive enough for he and his friends to enjoy before she dies.. Wrong! The moment he is in striking range, Raidh’s axe finds his sword-arm and shortly after, the axe is stuck in the meat of that limb, in the bone, and he is dragged down with the swing of the weapon to where the shieldmaiden’s boot can meet with his face. Behind her, Raidh hears somebody’s skull shatter, hooves pounding. Good old Nidrun, she smiles to herself, while her axe swiftly makes the leader of the looters experience brief and painful regret.

Emilia was unarmed beyond her bow when it came to entering this land that she’d never been in before. It left her more exposed to the world and the weapons of the barbarians. The simple words of praise for her shot were met with a displeased look. It was a good shot for where it was aimed, but it was a poor shot over all to the farmer. She watched as the other stepped away from her heading toward the leader of the group. Which made Emi glad that she didn’t have to put up with the big bad man when she was not an experienced fighter. Blue eyes glanced away from her to the man that was down cursing and damning as he tried to yank the arrow free from the back of his knee. Unlucky for him the arrow heads that were used by the woman were special made. Barbed with a poisonous coating. Even if he pulled it free that damage to the knee would be horrid to the muscle and flesh, but the poison would already be there. Slow spreading and deadly as it started with his leg. A numb sensation before the limb would start to die. She wasn’t worried about him it was the other three men that were making their approach. Startled slightly by the man who lunged in her direction cause an arrow to fly free un-aimed. She stumbled backwards, tripping over her own two clumsy feet. It was in the middle of her fall that the arrow left her hand. It skimmed along the cheek of the man before flying off into open air then hit the ground feet away. Emilia hit the ground with a thud and wide eyes as she was looking up at the scene of the horse battling not one but two of the men who were behind her. A quick roll and a spring up she was back on her feet barely missing accidently getting hit by the hard hooves of the horse. The man she faced was angry that was clear as she was cursing at her after having been grazed by her arrow. Another arrow was loaded, aimed, and shot. It hit the man, barely piercing his arm. He was much closer and tough than the first man she’d hit. Eventually, six or seven arrows later the man fell to the ground when she managed to get a shot in his throat, arrow sticking straight through it. Spattered by his blood she stumbled backwards with a look of disgust. It was in this moment that she’d completely forgotten about the down man. A flying thrown dagger her way was missed fully in the heat of the fight. With ease it sunk into her flesh, lodged in her side just above her hip on the right side, a lucky angle to miss the organs.

Raidh is quick to avenge her brand-new acquaintance and the seggox tastes brain-matter for the second time this day mere moments after the knife is thrown. With one boot resting on his carcass in short order, the shield-maiden can now survey what’s happened with the rest of the men. Trampled to death – good. Head staved in – also good. Arrow to the throat – priceless. She grins Emilia’s way but the smile quickly vanishes when Raidh realises the girl is wounded. A whistle leaves her lips, Nidrun comes trotting to the call, and in one smooth motion Raidh is mounted on the mare. A moment later, she is beside Emilia, one callused hand thrust down to help the girl up to the mare’s back. “Better shot,” she says, tilting her head toward the throat-pierced corpse. “If you pull that dagger out of you, think you can ride?"

Emilia blinked slowly as it took a moment for her to actually realize that she’d been hit by the dagger. Adrenaline did that she supposed. Her eyes turned to look at the scene around them. Five fallen men. Two killed by the horse, two by the horse’s rider, and one by her. Her stomach twisted. She’d killed someone. It was a choice that had to be made thought. Her life or his. Her bow was placed back into place as she was comfortable for now that it wasn’t needed. When the other came to her side mounted on her horse the blue eyes of the freckle faced human rose to meet hers. “If I pull the blade out then it will start to bleed, much worse than it is now. It is unwise to remove it until I have the proper items to patch it up. I will be fine walking, Miss.”

Raidh’s people do not view women as weaker than their menfolk, indeed the women of the Plains are more often regarded as deadlier some respects, and are offered every honour a man might receive. They do not, though, view outsiders with much esteem. Raidh makes an exception in the case of this little farm-girl, who is tougher than she looks. “Very well,” she replies, and slides off Nidrun, landing beside Emilia with a thunk of boots. “I’ll walk with you.” Time was short, and matters of import demanded action, but Raidh wasn’t leaving Emilia wounded and alone. “Not to the city, it’s too far with that blade in you. The camp of my people is closer, and our healers are expert in treating battle-wounds.” She glances aside to the girl, patting Nidrun’s neck in appreciation for the mare’s part in their victory. “Was that your first?” she asks, with a half-grin.

Emilia was an odd ball of humans. From her time traveling she had gathered that most the races and people were not fond of people like herself. In time, her mind had warped itself into their views. She saw herself as less than those around her. When the other slid free from her mount she was confused, very confused. Why would she want to walk along side someone like her? Her gaze lifted to Nidrun. A very beautiful creature in the eyes of the human. “First…what?” She asked quietly. Emi assumed that she meant kill, but who knew what the stranger meant. Not knowing where it was that she was at the farm girl would wait for Raidh to make the first step before following alongside her in whatever direction she choose. A few steps into the walk nerves would settle in a little about following a stranger. Thus far she had no reason to not trust her, but that had gotten her into bad places before. “You’re not going to keep me prisoner?” She asked a slightly silly question of Raidh.

A very silly question! says Raidh’s incredulous look. “No,” says her mouth, from the grin falls now. “Why would you think that?” She steers Emilia west with a hand pressed gently to the girl’s back for a moment. Nidrun walks beside them too, the mare’s usually glossy brown hide dulled by the dust and sweat of a hard day and a half’s ride, and now spattered with blood as well. The horse is weary but in good spirits, for she loves a battle as much as any of the Riddarnir.

Emilia walked slowly to the west as directed by the other. Her back straightened a little at her touch, but relaxed the moment her hand pulled away. She was calm while traveling with the woman and her horse. Should more bandits arrive it wouldn’t be a problem. When the other questioned her question she folded an arm across herself to rest a light hold on her other arm. A nervous stance. “You’re land has just been attacked violently from the sounds and I am a stranger waltzing into it.” For all Raidh knew the farm-girl could be a spy or something else out to get the people under a guise. She wasn’t, of course.

Raidh is about to say ‘it isn’t my land..’ but of course, it kind of is now. Checking herself, she says instead, “From what I can gather, the thing which wrought all the damage is gone from the lands.” With Eboric before it. The thought makes her frown. “The scavengers are a far lesser problem, one my brother will deal with, I am sure.” But she scans the road and sparsely planted fields around them, just in case. Satisfied there’s no imminent danger, she halts the small company with a raised hand, and examines Emilia’s wound. “You’ll lose too much blood, walking all the way to the camp like that. Stay here with Nidrun a moment, alright? I’ll fix you something that might help.” Raidh does not wait for a reply before grabbing a coil of rope from a loop on her saddle, and striding off toward a sickly stand of trees gathered in a corner of the nearest field. That left Emilia with the horse, who pressed her wide nostrils to the girl’s hair and snuffed at it loudly. Such is the general approval of the mare Nidrun. Emilia will see Raidh hacking at branches with her bloody axe, and lashing the results together with the rope.

Emilia listened as the other woman spoke. She didn’t know much about this side of the land. She’d never been here before and this was surely not the best time to be making it her first time with the land having been attacked. Halted she stood there not sure what it was the woman was doing. She watched with curious eyes as she stalked off toward a group of sickly looking trees grouped together with her axe. Left alone with the horse in the middle of some strange place. She froze instantly the moment she could feel the horse’s nostrils in her tangled blonde curls. For just a moment she thought the rider had left her to be eaten by her horse. Such a silly idea and she knew it. Slowly turning around she faced Nidrun with a soft smile. Her hands were already bruised up from before arriving here. Slowly she extended one toward the horse. A pause in her hand while she waited to see if Nidrun would allow her to pet them. If allowed her hand would fully extend to her neck to stroke along her gently, if not her hand would just fall back to her side.

Raidh‘s horse graciously allows Emilia’s touch, and will even nuzzle her hand for another, if the girl stopped stroking her too soon. Nidrun was bred for war, but her soul is equine and ever grateful for whatever moments of peace might bless her existence. Raidh is soon back, though, dragging behind her a rough pallet of branches. On it is her helmet and axe, and finally Emilia can get a good look at the shieldmaiden’s face. Raidh drops the pallet’s long handles long enough to remove these items from it, and then drags it around behind Nidrun while carrying on their conversation as if it’d never been interrupted. “Anyway, you’re hardly waltzing, are you, with a dagger in your guts.” Such is Riddarnir humor, and she chuckles, sky-blue eyes alight with the joke. “And trust me, if we wanted to hide something from you, it would remain unseen. Our presence here.. the Riders, I mean, is no great secret.” She’s tied the long poles to the saddle now, and gestures to the result. “Get on. And hold tight. Nidrun is fleet of foot, and slow paces don’t come easily to her. It’ll be a bumpy ride, but we’ll get you to the healer before you bleed to death, with a bit of luck.” More plains-humor, possibly – though Raidh didn’t much look as if she was joking now. While waiting for Emilia to clamber on the pallet, she adds, “So. If you’re not a national threat, what is that you do for a living? You said something about animals?” And after a brief pause, “I’m Raidh, by the way. Raidh Jorgunsdotr, of the Riddarnir from the Great Western Plains.”

Emilia couldn’t feel more at peace than the moment she was standing there petting the horse that was normally breed for war. It had been some time since she’d been this close to a horse since hers ran off with the fire. She’d never found them. While one hand lightly petted the horse the other dug into the pocket of her denim pants. Old habit, maybe but she had a sugar cube in there. Pulling it out slowly she opened her hand to offer it to Nidrun. “Sorry, it’s a little broken up.” She said softly to the creature. It was about this time that the woman had returned from what it was that she had been doing over by the trees. It was a surprise to see how crafty the woman was. “I was a farmer. Now, I just…explore.” She wasn’t sure how best to put it other than that. With the farm gone she’d taken to exploring the land. As the other introduced herself Emi politely offered a hand to her, “Emi, nice to meet you Miss Raidh Jorgunsdotr, of the Riddarnir from the Great Western Plains.” A smile flashed. Raid sure had a long name. “And, Miss. I am sure I am capable of walking…” She said glancing to the pallet that she’d just made with a nervous look. Emi was a clumsy. She’d probably fall off at some point and end up taking more damage.

Raidh chuckles again and shakes her head, clasping Emilia’s hand briefly in her own callused fingers. “Just ‘Raidh’ will do, Emi. A farmer, you say? Plenty of those around here, but not a lot of farms left for them now.” Once more, her humor faded. “I don’t know much about raising crops and tame cattle, but I am guessing it’ll be hard to feed a whole nation on that.” She gestures to the dusty, barren field where she’d cut the branches. “It was poor soil before, with a curse leeching all the goodness from it. That problem is gone now, but Avaldi tells me the farms to the east are flattened.” Her gaze settles on Emilia in all seriousness now. “Truly, we need all the help we can get to heal this nation if we are to avoid a famine, and all the trouble that comes with it.” She doesn’t directly ask Emilia for help, though. Instead she points at the pallet. “Get on it. No arguing, now. I’ll strap you in, if you don’t think you can hold on. I will not have you leaving a trail of blood for whargs to follow.” Or bleeding to death, she didn’t repeat.

Emilia was half listening to the words of the woman as she was describing the land’s status with its farms. It was a heart ache to hear that the ones to the east had been flattened while ones out this way were nothing but a barren ghost of a farm. She was listening though, even if it seemed that she wasn’t. A step away from both the woman and her horse toward the direction of where Raidh had just come from. A few more steps before she carefully squatted down, almost not even noticing the dagger in her side expect for the stabbing pain of its new angle. Taking up a handful of the dry soil the female rolled it around in her hand before slowly letting it fall back to the ground. A wince as she righted herself once more. Dusting her hand on her pant leg she made her way over to the pallet that had been finely crafted for her to sit upon. “I don’t know what a wharg is…” she admitted. “But we best be going. The dirt is unsettling, something is on its way.” A nervous smile before she moved to carefully seat herself in place. Her heart was already racing with a bit of fear. None the less she took a hold to the ropes, a deep inhale to brace herself, and then nodded, “Ready when you are.”

Raidh watches Emilia’s painful assessment of the soil – horses, she knew, but nothing of dirt and what it grows except for the golden-and-green grasses of the wide plains. When the farm-girl seats herself on the pallet, Raidh spares a moment to examine the knife’s entry-point, and from a small cloth bag strung on wool around her throat, pinches a little powder which she sprinkles on the visible flesh where cloth was cut through. “Whatever’s coming will hopefully be happy to feast on our friends back there, but I agree – we should hurry.” The powder only takes a few moments to work, a clotting agent which slows the steady drip-drip of blood from Emilia’s wound. Meanwhile, Raidh is swiftly on horseback again, Nidrun lashing her tail in annoyance at having to drag the weight of the girl and pallet both behind her. The mare’s pace is smooth, however, and though the road’s stony and cracked, the green wood is flexible enough to absorb most of the shock so Emilia’s journey is not nearly so painful as it could have been.

Hazy Barrows

The two women are soon passing through the near-desolate fields, empty of crops and workers alike, until the ground grows mist that swirls around Nidrun’s hocks and Emilia lying on her wheel-less cart of sticks. The barrows are near, the realm of ancient ghosts and the black, flittering bats which have made the cairns home for many human lifetimes past. Perhaps to dispel any unease Emilia may feel, Raidh keeps her voice cheery, “A wharg is like a wolf, if a wolf is four times the size and ten times uglier,” she chirps, “But never mind those. Tell me what life is like on a farm.” For Raidh has seen them, passed them by, but never spent time on one in her life.

Emilia let out a small sound that seemed to mimic the annoyance of Nidrun, only she didn’t have to take charge of any extra weight. It wasn’t so much of a burden for Nidrun as Emilia barely weighted a thing since she’d lost the farm, barely ate much, and as a result lost a decent amount of her weight. Even as the pallet absorbed most, but not all of the shock it did not do much of anything to stop the dust from the horse’s hooves from flying at her. Eyes were held tightly shut to keep from having dirt or small rocks get into them. Emi couldn’t be more glad when the terrain started to change from barren dust to the swirling mist. The front side of the human was coated in a layer of dust, while her backside was mostly at the level of clean it was before this trip began. Blinking a few times to adjust her sight to the new area. An silly image of what was described came to mind about what a wharg looked like. Then there was a question asked of her about the farm life. Now that there wasn’t debris flying into her face she was able to reply, “Life at the farm is different than people think. It isn’t as easy as it looks either. Up before the sun is and to be after it has set. Lots of things to do that keeps one busy with their tasks, especially so when it is only one person that runs a farm which provides for two towns, Larket and Kelay. Even with the farm gone I still am stuck in the same sleeping patterns.”

Raidh shifts her weight on Nidrun's spine, a silent way of asking the mare to halt, and the shieldmaiden speaks a few words of respect to the ancestors buried here, ancient phrases designed to appease restless spirits. And it does seem that dark spots in the mist, and certain white twists in the haze, melt away from the women as she does so. The air is not damp, either, when Raidh offers Emilia and eventual reply, "The Riddarnir like to rise before the sun, too. It is not good for the high sun to find someone still sleeping.." Though she intends to keep the topic light, her curiosity gets the better of her. "So what happened to your farm, that you had to abandon it?"

Emilia was intrigued by the way the mare came to a stop so that Raidh would speak some words. Silly it seemed to one like Emilia who knew nothing about the land here. She wanted to ask some questions about it, but it seemed that Raidh had more questions for her. She was not worried about it. She would have plenty of time to ask questions later most likely, she hoped. “There was a fire. It was burned to the ground…” There she paused for a moment with a saddened look upon her face. It was the house that her parents had built, the farm her family started, and the place where she grew up. Memories of those long past danced around mind for a short time. In silence she sat there before finally adding a few words, “I did not abandon it. Too many problems within the city of Larket that I have not been back since. I took a little time to see what else is out there. I don’t think that is a crime…” It was that break time that lead her here after all.

Raidh’s golden brows draw down in concern, “Is this kingdom of Larket so cruel a place as to make you ever wary of hostile capture, or people assuming you’ve committed a crime?” The girl shivers. The mists are clear of wandering spirits for the moment, but they are also deepening – and not in a natural way. With every moment that passes, the air grows whiter still. Raidh doesn’t know why, but she’s well-versed enough in matters of the spirit to know that unusually thick mist in the region of a barrow is probably not a good thing. Nidrun is nervous too, the mare exhaling several sharp snorts while her hooves shifting restlessly on the stony earth, which couldn’t be comfortable for the pallet-passenger behind. “I think we’ve got a problem,” she mutters, drawing her axe once again from over her shoulder. The mists are now so thick that pea soup doesn’t make the cut for clear analogies, and visibility is very poor indeed. Raidh slides off her horse and steps around her to the pallet, ready to defend Emilia from whatever horror might leap out of the fog at them. With Raidh’s luck this day, it’ll probably be wharg with a few extra legs instead of one missing..

Emilia did not have enough time to answer the questions from the other woman concerning Larket. The mist around them had started to thicken, but that was not even close to describe how thick it was getting. Too dangerously thick…even Emi, who was not from these parts, knew this. Stay out of trouble…that’s an order rang in her head in a mocking tone of the voice of the man that had said as much to her. Her parents really should have given her the middle name of trouble. She was always finding it or it was finding her. Here she sat on a pallet made by Raidh to make their trip to her camp faster. She was no use to anyone sitting there. Reaching up with a turned sleeve she brushed the dust layer off her face and away from her eyes. With that complete she stood up in her place, took her bow off her back and held it between her legs while she removed her shirt. Beneath was a fitted white shirt so she wasn’t topless. Resting a hand the blade sticking out of her side she took a deep breath then in one swift motion pulled it free of her side. Using it she sliced at her shirt, tearing free a large piece that was mostly dust free. This torn part was quickly wadded up and pressed into the wound. Fingers blood stained as she spent a quick moment actually putting parts of the fabric into the injury. Then the shirt was taken, wrapped around her mid-section and tied tightly over the injury. A quick patch job that would give her the ability to help defend against whatever without bleeding out in the process. Slipping the bloody blade into her back pocket Emi took her bow in hand again, at the ready for whatever was coming now.

Raidh can see just far enough into that mist to observe Emilia removing the dagger, and utters a few words of dismay. But in the depths of the mist, there’s indistinct figures moving, several of them now. She can’t tell what their nature might be, but with the long handle of her bearded axe firmly in the grip of both hands, the weapon ready to taste blood again, she then calls out to whoever – or whatever- it is. “Show yourself! Cowards!” with a note of courage she isn’t actually feeling, much. But if this situation is not resolved swiftly, Emilia’s life is at risk anyway. Now the shieldmaiden prays to the gods of her land and this one, too, not for safety but for a clean battle and swift victory, and as though in response to these words all the misty figures begin drifting toward the two, until Raidh can finally see one. And her prayers die on her tongue, and courage is left barely standing with the shock of what she’s seen, for that figure cannot be a living man, with his armours all rotted and rusting and bone showing through his mummified flesh. And here’s another – a woman with long, stringy hair, dressed in the ceremonial funeral-garb of a shaman, with many amulets strung around her neck. More are looming in the fog, but it’s these two who come forward first. “They’re dead,” she gasps to Emilia. “Ghosts of the barrows, our weapons are useless.” Yet Nidrun is standing calmly now, lifting her head to nicker a soft greeting to these phantoms, even as the female of the two opens her toothless mouth and intones in a voice like sandpaper drawn over metal, “You pray. We come.” Raidh turns a very brief, very confused glance toward her wounded companion, and it dawns on her what’s happening.. “Lower your weapon, Emi,” and Raidh does just that herself. “Stay very still. I think they mean us no harm.”

The old woman-phantom hisses to Emilia, “No harm. You bleed. I come.”

Emilia could feel her nerves starting to get the best of her. Here with this thick fog around them was more nerve wrecking than earlier when it was bandits coming for them. At least then she was able to see that which was coming her way. Even with lack of skills to fighting she knew it was better to see than be blinded. Luckily Emi spent many hours training with her bow while blind folding herself to train her other senses. Here with lack of sight the farm girl was able to keep her bow welly aimed at the louder of the approaching steps that could be heard coming from the mists. Her heart skipped a beat or two the louder the approaches got. Raidh’s reaction in prep was nothing too comforting. It was as the undead man and woman emerged into sight that the blonde loosened her grip on her bow. The aura that seemed to roll off them was not one with a threat lingering. Emilia had gotten good at judging people’s presence over the years. Easier to know when to be defensive verse offensive. Blue eyes studied the woman with the hissing words. A moment passed after Raidh lowered her weapon before she lowered her own. Nervous tones as she spoke, “You’re not going to eat me…are you?” Odd question, but she’d heard tales and such.

Raidh’s hand is shamefully unsteady on the handle of that lowered axe, while the old woman closes in on Emilia, her amulets clanking and phantom bones creaking under her ruin of a dress. “No eat,” the woman cackles, and it’s a horrible sound, but not as horrible as the one she makes next. Raidh has one eye on the ancient and ghostly warrior, but almost forgets he’s there for a moment when the old woman starts chanting a rune-bind she hasn’t heard since her grandmother lived. The words are so old they aren’t in common use anymore, but Raidh knows they’re for the healing of wounds. She watches the long-dead shaman try to put her ghostly hand on the bloody rags plugging Emilia’s wound, and would have kept watching if it wasn’t for a cold, clammy hand grasping her own wrist. She snaps her attention back to the old warrior, who is right in her face now, his long, yellow teeth showing when he draws his thin lips back to speak, “In a maelstrom’s heart, destiny flies.” Raidh smiles very weakly, and nods, her gaze fixed on the cold hand grasping her arm. “Right,” she says, “Good. Thanks. I’ll try to remember that.”

Emilia found herself holding her breath as the dead shaman woman moved closer to her. The sounds that came from her mouth were worse than a rusted nail being pried free from an old piece of wood with a hammer. Never before had she met one like this lady here, dead but not dead. At least she was getting the adventure that she sought when she left the tavern. As the dead bony had of the female reached for the bloody cloth that she’d just placed into her wound to keep it from bleeding freely the farm girl lifted her trembling hands in the air. It was almost as if she was surrendering to the other being. The words that left her lips in the healing chant were foreign to her. Emi knew the common tongue, but that was it for her extent of languages. She remained perfectly still while the shaman-woman did her work. It was as the rag was pulled free of her side that she exhaled that breath she was holding. She wasn’t even aware she’d been holding it until she’d took her next breath. Heart racing as her nervous gaze slowly turned to look back at Raidh and the warrior man. The look she gave the other one was enough to know what it was farm girl was silently asking, what was she supposed to do? Was these people really no harm?

Raidh is being muttered at by the ancient warrior, his words impossible for Emilia to make out over the wyrding-prayer of the old shaman who is plucking free the bloody rags from Emilia’s wound. As this happens, the farm-girl will see the blood slowly vanish from the cloth, and then suddenly there’s clammy ghost-fingers in the hole left by the knife. In it! Like right in there, and while it isn’t painful aside from the terrible cold of it, that cannot be comfortable. The bleeding stops, though, and when the ghost-fingers draw back again it’s clear the wound no longer leaks that precious fluid. The shaman stops her awful chanting, and cackles again, while removing one of her many amulets off from around her scrawny neck. This is draped over Emilia’s head now, “You grow. You grow good,” the phantom says, and then wanders off, talking to herself, back into the fog from whence she came. The amulet is grimy with the dirt and rot of a thousand years, but it is finely crafted from white stone, like that from which Venturil’s city is made, carved into the likeness of a beast with four legs though it’s hard to tell what sort of animal it is through all the grime. Raidh’s strange companion speaks a few quiet, raspy words before he too rattles off into the thick mists. The shieldmaiden looks a bit ill, when she finally turns toward Emilia. “Are you alright?”

Emilia would have peed herself the moment the chilled fingers of the woman pressed into the wound in her side left by the dagger, but she’d used the restroom before her venture into these lands. A thing her parents always told her…go before leaving so you don’t have to go when the timing is wrong. In this instant it was a good thing. Those trembling hands were frozen in the air as her gaze turned from looking at Raidh to looking down to those frozen fingers within her flesh. Her eyes were wide, a panic carefully hidden by a held breath. What did one do when a stranger was sticking their fingers into your side while chanting something in a langue that was not known to them? Nothing. Emilia choose to do nothing but remain standing there on the crafted pallet frozen like a statue. The chill in this finger didn’t bother her as much as it would some due to her time spent up in Frostmaw’s cold lands. Wide eyes watched as the as the fingers were pulled free from her now un-bleeding side. Amazing. The wound didn’t bleed and seemed to be healing itself slowly, but faster than the normal human body process. When both shaman and warrior were gone the blonde turned her gaze to meet that of Raidh’s once more. The question was heard, but it took the farm girl a moment to gather herself into being able to speak a reply because honestly she was not sure if she truly was alright. A half nod, “I think so…you?” Still shaky fingers coming now to the ancient amulet that was gifted to her by the ancient undead shaman of these lands.

Raidh nods, “I’m perfectly fine,” she says, though she doesn’t really look perfectly fine. “And perhaps we ought to be moving along. The veils of Draugheim are thin here, it seems, and I’ve no wish to meet any more of its inhabitants this day.” Nidrun was looking bored, nosing about for non-existent grass, the mare not at all bothered by any of it. Raidh checks her over anyway, before stepping toward Emilia, her gaze drawn to that now-healing wound. “And besides, we have to get that injury looked.. woah!” The maiden’s blue eyes are wide, and she blinks once, twice, “Is that healing?” As she draws her gaze up to Emilia’s face, she notices the amulet. “Oh… “ Her expression has an ‘uh-oh’ aspect to it. “Did the ghost give you that?”

Emilia knew nothing at all about the ghosts of these lands or anything else for that matter. She will have to make time to try and find some books to learn more about the land here. If she was going to stay for any amount of time she would need to know more about the place of residence. Something about the tone in the voice of the other caused that heart of hers to skip another beat. What kind of trouble was she in now? Her eyes glanced down to the wound that was still chilled to her even as it was healing itself. Blue eyes lifted then to look at Raidh, “She gave it to me after she’d stuck those cold fingers of hers into my side while talking all funny like…” The look that was given in return to Raidh was a very worried look. Fingers twitching as she debated removing the ancient rot and grime covered amulet from her neck.

Raidh reaches quickly to cover to Emilia’s fingers with her own. “Don’t remove it, yet.” Her tone is serious, somewhat urgent. “A gift from Draugheim ought not be put aside lightly. It’s rare, and usually holds power of some kind. For good, or ill.” She leans in, squinting at the item, “Horns. It looks a little bit some of the old carvings my Amma owned. I think it’s an aurochs, actually.” Raidh’s relief is obvious, as she explains, “The ancient wild cattle, first tamed by the men of the West, in the time when gods still walked the world and men were new. It is a good omen, I believe. But know this: if you accept a gift from a ghost, you are bound to whatever geis is upon it, and whatever power it has to offer you. And there’s no way of telling what that is, exactly, until it happens. Or the ghost tells you, but they’re really good at not explaining things.” Raidh has a gift of her own, tucked into a pocket on her tunic but she isn’t mentioning that just yet, “Anyhow, are you feeling fit enough to ride now? If so, perhaps I can take you to the tavern for a night’s rest.” She shivers slightly. “I’m sure a warm fire and stout ale will aid your recovery better than a long haul to the camp.” Recovery from the wound or the ghosts, or both.

Emilia lifted the amulet up so that it was not being removed, but to a point where she could look better at the piece of white stone with something carved into it. Carefully she brushed away some of the grime from it with her thumb to better reveal the image of the ancient cattle that Raidh was talking about. Emilia really needed to find a library around here to read more into a vast amount of things. “You grow. You grow good.” She repeated the words that the ghost had spoken to her before leaving back into the mists once more. “I hope those words are meaning of a good omen over a bad one.” She flashed a timid smile before letting the amulet fall back down, letting it hang as it would. “I have honestly had enough bad in one life time…” A pause, “The tavern sounds fine, but I do not think that I brought enough coin with me to rent a room there. To that, I have done nothing to earn a stay either.” She would leave it up to the other woman from there on where the two of them went.

Raidh quickly strips the pallet from Nidrun, tossing the stick-made object aside, and is soon mounted on the mare, with one hand lowered to pull Emilia up. “Tavern it is, and never mind the coin, just tell them you’re with the Riders and you’ll have all you need.” They make haste, incredible haste, through the barrows and back to the main road, passing ambling groups of displaced farm-folk and various ruined bits of land as they go, and between Nidrun’s breakneck pace and the sadness of what she sees, conversation isn’t on Raidh’s agenda for the duration of that ride. Finally, they reach the tavern, and Raidh waits for Emilia to dismount. “Rest well, and I’ll come looking for you as soon as I can.” Right now, she has a King to find, no matter how weary she and her mare might be. Off she goes without another word but for Nidrun’s sake at a far easier pace, toward the worst-hit parts of the nation.