Scarburg Meadhall

[littlemanpoet]

The westering sun was a hand's breadth above the flat horizon. The quarterstaff fights were nearing their conclusion as the folk of Scarburg cheered the contestants on.

Those in the baker could hear the cheering and clash of wood against wood over the sound of hissing fat and boiling kettles.

They could not hear the quiet steps, nor see the walker coming out of the woods south of Scarburg, onto the road, and toward the encampment slowly making of itself a settlement.

The walker was hooded and wore a long cloak. Their color could not be told, for both had seen much wear, and seemed a smattering of gray and brown and green all mixed together. His feet were booted in old brown leather. A long gray beard wagged back and forth with each step, and the walker's staff stumped to the ground every other step. His face was hidden, so it could not be seen whether he smiled or frowned.

Then he stopped and looked up. His eyes were bright and sharp beneath bristling brows. He sniffed deer acooking on the breeze and his mouth turned in a small smile.

He started walking again, now bent a little more in the manner of an old man. He entered the encampment and made his way to the baker where he found a woman past her middle years sweating over her cooking.

"Good day, my good woman. Could you spare a scrap of meat for a hungry traveler?"

[Groin Redbeard]

However much he hated the sting of battle it felt good to use the old skills he had learned long ago. It was quite a feeling of exhilaration that he felt as he sat down with Balvir after their match was over. It was like he had scraped the rust off of his favorite sword so that it shone and sparkled in the sunlight, he felt young again and was itching to get back into the fight, but for now he was more than content to watch the tradesmen and soldiers fight it out.

His nose still felt as if it was broken after that blow Dan had dealt him, and although he was sure that it wasn't, the slightest touch would send a sharp feeling of pain shooting through his head and down through his neck. Dan was always a quiet figure, never presuming to speak when not spoken to, very reserved in his opinion; and this made the feisty nature of the Drug in battle all the more startling. Still, Lithor felt no ill feelings toward Dan, it was all in the middle of a fight and the adrenaline was sure to get the best of any man.

Balvir was rubbing his aching abdomen. "I tell you," Lithor said, "my head is buzzing like a swarm of bees. That Crabannan isn't a half bad fighter either, wouldn't you say?" Balvir just stared at him and nodded his head and then went back to massaging his stomach. Lithor laughed and gave the soldier a good slap on the back.


Erbrand

"Right," Erbrand said with enthusiasm, "here our turn is next! Your help was very much appreciated in the last round Harreld, but I'm sure that you will be more than a match for lord Eodwine." Harreld gave him a worried glance, realizing that this meant that Erbrand would go ahead with his threat.

"Same plan as last time then, or do you have you come up with anything better?" Erbrand whispered as Wilcred called their names.