Outracing the Flames RPG

[Farael]

The man, Brand, had said that they had been the ones to look after the bodies of the dead villagers. He also said that someone would see to Fion but that had not happened yet. In any case, Osmod decided that a cup of tea would be a good idea and helped himself to some. These people seemed to be civilized enough, but he did not feel trusting towards them just yet. The dull ache on his chest was a good reminder that, for all he knew, these men and women were still possible enemies.

The ache on his chest. He had hurt himself while pulling the barge across the river and only made it worse while tossing and struggling to free himself of the net. Caught like a fish he had been, and he was lucky not to be dead like a caught fish as well. Shaking his head he crouched next to Fion and tried to give him some of the tea. Osmod was already feeling its effect and he thought it would be good for his friend.

He carefully put his arm around the man’s shoulders and propped him up so that he would not choke on the concoction. Then Osmod carefully let a few drops of the tea make their way down Fion’s tongue. His friend seemed to awaken almost immediately, although the first hint at consciousness was a low, growl-like complaint. Then he opened his eyes, but was unable to see clearly. "Osmod? Its... It's an ambush!" He pushed Osmod aside then, before the man had had a chance to calm his friend down. Fion was panicking, as he tried to run away, failed and then attempted a crawl. At last, he asked at the group of people that had gathered around him "Who... Who are you? . . . Where is Osmod? What have you done to my friend?"

Osmod smiled at the others, trying to reassure them –and himself- that it would be alright. Then he motioned for them to give him some space to calm his friend down. He walked slowly towards Fion, trying his best not to startle him, and crouched by his side. ”Fion, it’s me, Osmod.” He started, looking at the others pleadingly for more space. ”We were attacked by men, who say to be loyal to Théoden King. They say it was an accident, and I believe them from now. There is not much we can do in any case, they outnumber us. Try to calm yourself down, we are safe for the time being but remember; if they ask about our other companions… well, it is better we keep that information for ourselves” He looked at the riders from Wulfham who were glancing at him anxiously yet far enough to be out of hearing range. ”I will help you back close to the fire. They say one of them is a healer and for Eorl the young I shall see that he heals you.” He motioned for Leod to come over and help him support Fion as they walked towards the bedroll next to the fire. ”Rest now, my friend, soon you will be feeling much better. It sure is a blessing to see you awake already.”

[Folwren]

Athwen looked from the woman to the man when she finished. The 'Uncle-of-sorts' didn't appear too pleased by her rather unclear description of the ambush and she dropped her eyes rather guiltily from his face as he continued to sit in grim silence. Meghan appeared to hear her story with more lenience and accepted her invitation to come to the camp ahead of the rest of her group. Athwen lifted her gaze again to the woman's face and a small smile came to her face. She didn't like being mistrusted, and though she understood why Rædwald might doubt her tale and believe that their misunderstanding was indeed real, she was thankful that Meghan was at least willing to trust her a little bit on the matter.

'Athwen and I can start off at a slow pace. . .you'll catch up to us in no time,' she said.

Athwen turned her large, blue eyes towards Rædwald, wondering what he would have to say to that idea. He wasn't looking too enthusiastic about it, and she could hardly blame him for feeling a little doubtful. Once again, she dropped her gaze. She didn't like feeling guilty when the crime in question wasn't her fault.

But Meghan, not caring what Rædwald thought of her idea, immediately urged her horse forward towards Athwen. Athwen lifted her head again, cast one last rather anxious glance towards Rædwald, and then turned Parith's head about and started riding back towards camp once again. Meghan rode by her side and they went at a walking pace.

For a little while there was a silence between the two of them. Athwen didn't know quite what to say. She wasn't even sure exactly why Meghan had agreed to accompany her back alone. 'Are you-' she began, but then stopped. What to say? 'Where were you from again? You mentioned across the river. . .you mean from outside the border, didn't you? Not that it matters too much,' Athwen added rather absently. She had never been one to care one way or the other in such matters and she didn't pay attention to such politics. 'What are you on this side of the river for? It's a long way from your home town, isn't it?'

[Eowyn Skywalker]

Eowyn Skywalker's post

It startled Eostre to see Meghan go running off after some... foreign woman like a lit branch had been tied to her horse's behind. It didn't seem right. Who knew what this woman was? Perhaps she had slain whatever it was underneath the bloodied blanket.

But somehow, in that time, Raewald appeared to go after Meghan (she hardly blamed him), and her and Sythric were left alone with... whatever it was.

In the end, they had ended up poking the covering off, peering underneath to observe nothing more than a dead deer, much to the dismay of the cynical Eostre. What was the reason to be suspicious about that? Though it hardly let her suspicions run away... she still doubted the safety of this situation. After all, the village had been—

Her thoughts cut off, not wishing to bring back the memories as the two brought their horses around and made towards Raewald and whatever news that would have to offer. At the very least, she thought, no one had been impaled, brutally murdered, or bound hand and foot yet. There was a start. Perhaps whatever Meghan had chosen to go galavanting after was a friend...

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Nogrod's post


So,a deer. Thank the earth! But killed by whom? Why is it covered? Who’s that girl? What is going on? Sythric was relieved and baffled, full of questions. ”Shall we pack this thing on your horse, as mine is quite loaded already?” Sythric asked Eostre. She agreed, and they lifted the deer behind Eostre’s saddle, tying it just loosely. Sythric took the bloody blanket. Then they mounted.

They went after Raedwald and Meghan, who seemed both now to be talking to the young girl. Then happened something a bit curious. Instead of waiting for them that little moment it would have taken Sythric and Eostre to reach them, Meghan and the girl started towards the edge of the forest. Raedwald again started towards them.

”It was a deer! But no sign of Osmod or Fion there. What’s going on in here?” Sythric called to Raedwald from a couple of yards away. Raedwald turned around, towards the girls riding away from them, and nodded both Sythric and Eostre to follow him. As they rode, Raedwald told them about the fate of Osmod and Fion, and about the girl, Athwen. They were taking on the girls quite fast now. Raedwald really seemed to be worried about Meghan. No wonder, for she seems to have been quite reckless today…

Sythric was amazed by this easterling thing. These people, whoever they were, clearly hadn’t met an easterling before. Or then there was something else there. He remembered the easterlings he had met in his life: there was no way to confuse Osmod or Fion to them!

There were the roving bandits he had met a couple of times as a rider. They all had long black hair that was tied – he hadn’t met even one with the hair open. And they seemed always to carry something in their heads, either some sorts of weird hats or at least some ribbons. And their eyes! They were dark but at the same time also shining, almost flaming. But the thing that was most curious to Sythric,was, that no matter how filthy they might otherwise be, they seemed to be always wearing beads of some sort, neclages, bracelets, ear rings, headbands…

And then there were the easterling soldiers. He had only met a small light cavalry unit once on a daring scout mission to the east. And what a sight they were! Bright colours, shining leather, all the garments beautifully adorned; real gentle craftsmanship comparing to Outlander-art. All gold, silver, deep blacks, burning reds, shining yellows… And what about their horses! Smaller and gentler than Outlander-horses, but their agility was just astonishing and their speed downright incredible. Add to that their marksmanship, and you really have a mighty foe. We were just poor and ragged beggars compared to them… and almost got all ourselves killed back then. There were four dead on our side, and only one on theirs... Sythric got the shivers a reasonable-sized compartment of easterling light cavalry would just butcher a refugee village in no time, with no more effort, than it would take a full grown man to poke a child down.

They caught the women. Sythric nodded to Athwen as she turned to look at the newcomers. Raedwald rode beside her and said something to her Sythric didn't hear. THen Raedwald turned to Sythric and Eostre, suggesting that they should sheath thweir weapons.

"Aye, you're right", Sythric answered, ans stuck his riding sprear to Thydrë's side, taking hold of the reins with both hands. They all slowed down and slipped into the woods.

[Undómë]

Meghan


‘. . . you mean from outside the border, didn't you?’

Meghan turned a little in her saddle and gave Athwen an appraising glance. Was she one of those people who considered those who had settled on the east side of the river as highly suspect? Perhaps not . . . since she had followed up with, ‘Not that it matters too much.’ It was the “too much”, though, that had sent her wondering what the woman’s real feelings about those from the “wrong” side of the river were.

She did not want to nitpick the point, however. Athwen seemed a little fragile and a loud argument might send her flying. Then what would they have to do find where Osmod and Fion were? Instead Meghan grinned at her, a conspiratorial look in her eye. ‘Yes . . . outside the border proper. My village is called Bregoware. About two days north of here and a day’s journey east of King’s Ford.’ She drew up closer to Athwen and leaned toward her, pitching her voice lower as if to keep the lone bird flying overhead or the mice in the dry grasses below from sharing in the confidence. ‘We’re the good King’s secret, you now . . . we villages across the Great River. He’s set us there to take the first blows should enemies come.’

Meghan’s expression turned to one of sadness as she recalled the burned village she’d so recently seen. She sat up in her saddle, face gone pale. ‘Though, all light jesting aside, it seems we did not prove the bellwether for these new assaults.’

She cast her eyes down an overwhelming feeling of sorrow taking hold. ‘There was a village just to the north . . . it was horribly destroyed. Some grace spared Bregoware this time, and some ill-spirited luck of the enemy put those people in the path of dark death. It could have been us raised in that funeral pyre, our good lives destroyed and us scattered on the winds.’ She wiped the back of her sleeve across her eyes where tears threatened.

‘Ah . . . enough. Tears will do no good. Let’s ride a little faster if you don’t mind. Once our two companions are with us we’ll be on our way.’ Meghan hesitated for a moment. Ah well, in for a coin, in for the whole purse . . .

‘We’re on our way to Edoras. To see the King and tell him what is happening here on his far borders. And to ask for his help. My village has packed itself up and is even now moving across the river and westward to the safety of the Riders. Our lord has asked us to deliver his request for help to the King, himself. So that some Riders might be spared to see us safely westward.’

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Rædwald


As they neared the small encampment from which Athwen had come, Rædwald drew his mount up near her. ‘Perhaps you can ride at the head of this little column so that your friends know we have not come to attack them. And we will keep our weapons sheathed, yes?’ he asked looking to Eostre and Sythric. ‘So as not to look so threatening.’

At a slow pace the five riders rode into the camp . . .

[Folwren]

‘It could have been us raised in that funeral pyre, our good lives destroyed, and us scattered on the winds.’

Meghan didn’t know what she was talking about. She had only seen the remains of what had been done by Brand and Incana and the others the evening before. She spoke only from later observations, when only a little smoke still wisped up from the ruins.

Athwen had seen more. Much more. And she had felt more, too. She wasn’t expected her home to be mentioned so suddenly, and spoken of so sadly, and not only in passing. Meghan had been touched by what she had seen, Athwen was sure, but no amount of sorrow or pity from anyone could help put away the empty sorrow and fear that the burning and killing of the village had put into Athwen. Her calm mask she had somehow managed to wear while greeting them was suddenly and unexpected stripped entirely away. Tears darted into her eyes and the lump in her throat was choking. She dropped Parith’s reins and her hands flew to her face, covering most of it in her futile attempt to keep from crying in open.

Shooting a swift glance towards her companion, she saw that Meghan had not become aware that she had so affected Athwen. She herself was actually in the action of wiping her eyes with her sleeve, and she drew a deep breath before she went on. ‘Ah. . .enough. Tears will do no good. Let’s ride a little faster if you don’t mind. Once our two companions are with us we’ll be on our way.’

Athwen made no immediate response. She didn’t mind going faster. A quicker gait would mean less talking, and Meghan’s words had undone her enough. But before they did urge their mounts onto a faster speed, Meghan continued. ‘We’re on our way to Edoras. To see the King and tell him. . .’

Athwen started and looked up, surprised and so shocked at the words that she just about missed the rest of what Meghan said. When she finished and looked at her, Athwen was nearly gaping.

‘But that’s exactly what the others are going for!’ she exclaimed. ‘That’s what they told me when they found me and we were going to start again tomorrow!’ Meghan gave her a swift, questioning glance. ‘I can’t explain it all, I don’t really understand all of it, but Brand will tell you. He’s the leader, I think.’

Meghan may have been wanting to reply, but at that moment, her three other companions rode up to them. Rædwald rode up to Athwen and told her she had better ride in the front of the column, a logical idea, which she immediately took the post of. It was an excellent place to ride, with her back to the others and her pale, teary face turned towards the wind and to no one’s eye. Perhaps it would look less as though she had been crying when they reached the camp.

In very few minutes at all they came to the trees and bushes. Athwen led them, threading her way easily through, and finally stopped. She slid from her horse and walked to his head.

‘I’ve brought some more people,’ she said to everyone there. She nodded towards Fion and Osmod. ‘They’re friends of them.’

[Farael]

Osmod got another cup of tea for himself. He was sitting by Fion’s side, sharing a comfortable moment of silence. Or as comfortable such moments could get in the midst of strangers. He felt safe for the time being, but he worried about his friends. They could not go back looking for them yet, Fion was not ready, yet he feared they’d think them dead and ride on without them. The strangers were busying about their camp, talking to each other.

It seemed no-one had noticed the figures riding towards them, and Osmod thought about warning the others. It was not too late to get ready to defend themselves, and nobody knew who roamed through the lands of Rohan anymore. Yet the riders did not look too threatening. As they got closer, he realized that the first rider had been in the ambush. She had talked to Brand, interceding in his favour. But it was not until he saw the second rider that Osmod realized who this group was. ”Meghan!!” he jumped to his feet and ran towards the others. They were all there, and he was glad to see them. Sythric and Rædwald went over to introduce themselves while Meghan and Eostre stayed behind. Osmod lead them to where Fion was sitting, and the young man seemed just as happy to see them all as he had been. They talked animatedly for a while, telling their stories to each other. Osmod grinned at Meghan when she told how she had met Athwen and praised her peaceful instincts. His hand wondered to his chest, where a dull pain still remained from his earlier misfortune. He was really glad to see them all, but he was specially glad to see Meghan again. Just looking at her reminded Osmod about the good things he had left behind. Perhaps he reminded him of something else his heart ached for, but he ignored the thought for the time being. Sythric and Rædwald were approaching and they would probably want some of the tea as they all decided what to do next.

[Maeggaladiel]

Fion was still a bit confused. First these people had attacked him (and judging by the pain on his scalp and the odd little cut under his jawbone, had dragged him around and pressed something sharp to his neck while he was out cold), and now they were fussing over him. An elderly man was pressing bandages to his head, and both he and Osmod were urging him to drink some strange-smelling tea that they claimed would help the pain. He wasn't sure he trusted these people, but he drank it anyway. (If it helped ease the throbbing in his skull, that was fine with him. If it was poison, well, at least his head wouldn't hurt anymore.)

After a moment, Osmod's attention was captured by something on the horizon. Fion considered looking too, but the constant drum-beat of pain at his brow kept his attention focused on the tea and the bandages. Whatever it was, he could let Osmod handle it.

The ambush had dampened his normally high spirits. Any other time, he would have taken this opportunity to joke that his own thick skull had saved him from any lasting damage. Right now though, all Fion wanted was to drink his tea, end the throbbing pain, and get away from these people.

The elderly healer tried to engage him in conversation, but Fion kept his replies short and vague. He wasn't in the mood to talk. Besides, Osmod had told him not to give any information away. He wasn't about to betray his friends. He would--

"Meghan!" Fion's head jerked towards Osmod, hearing him yell. His brow screamed out in protest at this action. The boy spent a moment clutching his head in pain, barely hearing Osmod talking excitedly to someone. Finally, he looked up. Meghan, Sythric, Eostre, and Raedwald! They had found them!

"Aren't you lot a sight for sore eyes!" He said, relieved to see his friends again. His spirits were lifted, and the next sentence out of his mouth was: "Although in my case, you're a sight for a sore brow!" His hand went to the bandage, trying to coax the throbbing to die down a little.

"Well, at any rate, I'm glad to see you!" He tried to stand up, but the healer grabbed his arm and scolded him. Ah well. Sitting was fine.