Outracing the Flames RPG

[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.

[Tevildo]

Leod had finished applying salve to the gash on Fion's head and carefully bandaged his wound. He had helped the man sit up, encouraging him to swallow a few mouthfuls of hot tea. The brew contained herbs that were intended to combat the pain so that he would hopefully rest easy when nightfall came. For the moment, however, since Fion wanted wanted to stay awake for a bit, he kept talking and asking questions.

Leod's hands moved deftly to tighten the bandages and to examine a small bruise on Fion's left side. Despite his dazed state, the injured man was alert enough to stay on guard, being very careful not to say too much about who he was or why he was here. Leod had tried to set his patient's fears at ease by explaining that he was from the nearby village and that the travellers had been welcoming and respectful, taking time to lay the dead to rest despite the urgency of their mission. But still the man was curiously silent. Leod began to wonder if perhaps the pair had something that they wanted to keep to themselves.

It was only when Athwen walked into camp with the other strangers following behind her that Fion's eyes had lit up in recognition and relief, and a torrent of words poured forth. For one moment, Leod felt a pang of yearning. If only a few of his neighbors could reappear in such a way that these folk had just done! But, alas, that was not to be. Their best hope was to get quickly on the road, to waste no more time in this distant glade, but to let the King know that a great new danger threatened their beloved land. If these strange folk were going to get in the way, it was best that their own party took off in the morning, leaving the others behind.

While Fion and Osmod were still talking animatedly with the strangers, Leod sidled over towards Brand, Athwen, and Dorran, who now stood in a small clump. Apparently forgetting that he himself was a relative newcomer to the band, Leod grumbled, "Is this all, or are there more? We seem to be encountering a surprise behind each bush and tree. And what are all these folk doing here? I never knew that romping through the woods could be such a common occupation for the young men and women of Rohan. In my day, young folks stayed put in their villages and minded the words of their elders! If we've a mission to carry out, perhaps we'd be better off splitting the group in the morning, and leaving these strangers behind. If our party gets any bigger, we may never make it to Edoras since the tramping of our horses' hooves and our loud jests and conversations will surely waken every miscreant between here and the king's palace."

[Folwren]

Athwen looked over at Leod as he spoke and then reverted her gaze back to the others. 'Come, Leod, be reasonable,' she said quietly. 'They might be minding the words of their elders. I don't mean to be rude or disrepsectful to you, but times are drastically different now than they were, and they-' she nodded towards them 'and these folks-' indicated Brand and Dorran 'had to go.' She paused again and her eyes looked over every person there swiftly. There were twelve in all, including herself.

'These are all of them, yes,' she said, in reply to Leod's first question. She turned to face Brand and Dorran squarely. 'They're on the same mission you are, I think,' she said. 'They're going to Edoras to the seek the King and his protection for their home and people. Meghan told me as we were riding back to here. She's the one there, almost as short as I am. I brought them so that they could see that we didn't hurt their companions too badly. I hope you don't mind. I stopped and talked to Meghan and told her that I had seen the two men and tried to say what had happened, but they weren't very happy with what I said, so I had to bring them. And she told me where they were going on the way.'

Brand and Dorran both turned their eyes towards the strangers, a new interest coming to their faces. Athwen stepped away to stand and wait to see what happened. She knew no more and had nothing further to offer.

[Nogrod]

Soon enough, they came into a small clearing with fire going on, and Osmod and Fion were there! What a relief! Both of them alive –although Fion didn’t seem so well with the heavy bandage on his head. There was an old man tending his wound. Osmod was standing beside them. And there were others there too.

These are strange times indeed. I thought that out party was a motley crue of youngsters and old warhorses, but look at these people here! Four youngsters, a girl and a grandfather! Are these the survivors of that unhappy village?

Athwen dropped herself from the saddle and took to walking, greeting the people at the clearing. All the Bregowarians dismounted too and headed to see Osmod and Fion: to embrace them, to ask what had happened. After patting Fion to the shoulder in encouragement, Sythric turned towards Osmod. He embraced him warmly, and with a great relief. “I’m really happy to see you two alive! For a moment we really feared you dead. Now I just hope, we are among friends, and not enemies.” Before Osmod could answer, there came others, hugging Osmod and asking about things happened.

Sythric stepped back and tried to configure the situation out. The old man that had been tending Fion’s wound had drawn aside, and was talking to three other strangers some ten yards away. The Deer! It must be their kill? Sythric walked back to the horses, took the bloody blanket from Thydrë, whispered some comforting words to Eostre’s horse and untied the deer from his back. He took the deer and the blanket, and walked towards the four strangers. He stopped about two yards from them and addressed them.

“My name is Sythric, Sythric of the Skara, Bregoware, sergeant of the Rohirrim – not in active duty, as you can see from my age, I suppose.” He nodded politely to everyone of the strangers, Athwen included, for they had not been introduced to each other. “The other senior with us there is Raedwald, also a veteran of the rohirrim. We served at Croacht, under the warden Thygulf some ten years ago. I don’t know, what our leader Osmod, and this young Fion here have told you, but we are on an urgent mission to the king himself, and would not like to be distracted. So I find these latest happenings quite unfortunate. If you are good people, loyal to the king and Rohan - as I do believe - you should see, that it’s not wise to go on ambushing each other? Especially at times like these.” He studied the men quite boldly, except for Leod, for he had been raised to honour older people, and that lesson he had learned well enough.

Before they could answer, he threw the deer to their feet. “This must be your kill?” He asked, and then threw the bloody blanket after it, to cover the deer. The deer’s hind legs were sticking from under the blanket. Sythric lifted the blanket from the corner and kicked the legs under it. As he let the blanket fall, there were no parts of the deer to be seen: it was just a bloody body under a blanket. “This is what we found from the grass, as we were searching for our friends here. So please understand us being a bit upset. Thank’s to this young lady here, we didn’t attack your encampment and continue the misery you have started.” As he thought Leod to be the leader here, he then looked questioningly into his eyes.

[Arry]

Brand watched as the newcomers greeted their companions. He’d heard what Athwen said about them and what she thought they were doing so far from their homes. How on earth did we ever think they were Easterlings! He tsk’d at himself for having been so jumpy. One small crisis and your clear thinking turns all muddy . . .

His eyes flicked up toward Leod as the older fellow finished grumbling about the new happenings. ‘I agree,’ he murmured back. ‘And I’m thinking we’ll be on our way tomorrow morning, and they can continue on with their own journey.’ He paused for a moment, his thoughts rolling about in his head. ‘It is an out of sorts thing, isn’t it, for us to be traveling so far from our village; I’ll give you that. But then these seem to be out of sorts times, don’t they? Given my own wishes I’d be in the little rolling hills west of Wulfham. With my horse and dog to keep me company. Watching out over my woolies. Going home at night to the good company of my family and my dear mother’s cooking.’ He swept his arm in a short arc about the campsite. ‘Not here, in this unfamiliar place with these unfamiliar people.’ He rubbed at the raised pink tissues of his cheek. ‘And with my face scarred and hurting all the time.’ He shrugged his shoulders and took a deep breath. ‘But here I am. At the bidding of Wulfham’s Lord, until the task is done or I am dead.’ He looked wearily toward the west. ‘With any luck, he’ll set this all to rights and there’ll be an end to all this out of sortness.’

By this time, one of the newcomers, Sythric he called himself, an older man, had gone back to one of the horses, returning with a deer carcass. He’d thrown it at their feet and spoken in a harsh, accusatory manner, or so it seemed to Brand’s ears. Brand’s cheek’s reddened, his fresh scars burning with the sudden rush of blood to them. He bit back his first thoughts which were simply to tell them he would be more than happy to see the hind end of their horses as they rode out of the camp. The one young man, though, Fion, did not look in any shape to be traveling.

Brand schooled his tongue to some civility and apologized for the actions once again, the Wulfhamers had taken against the two scouts. He offered no excuses, as the man seemed not in the mood to hear any. To his own surprise, he found himself inviting the other group to stay for supper and to bed down with them for the night if they wished. ‘You’ve so graciously brought in the deer we killed, you might as well share in it.’

He stepped away from the older man, leaving him to speak with Leod. ‘I’m Brand, from Wulfham,’ he said nodding in greeting to the other older newcomer. Brand pointed round to his little group, naming each. Eostre was greeted next, and then Meghan. ‘Please do stay with us the night and share a meal,’ he said taking them all in with a glance about. ‘A simple journey meal . . . plenty of meat, I think, to satisfy hunger. And whatever else we can pull together from your packs and ours.’

[Undómë]

Meghan


Meghan was more than glad to see her two companions all in one piece. When Athwen had spoken about the ambush, Meghan had gotten the idea that while the two were still alive, they were quite battered. She grinned widely at the two and ran to see them.

Osmod seemed fine. She looked at him appraisingly. No nicks or big bruises. She smiled a little wondering if the incident had ruffled his feathers a bit though. Best not tease him at this point . . . she told herself. Not in front of anyone, at least.

To Fion she spoke gently. He’d taken the brunt of the pummeling, it seemed. ‘We should have all stuck together,’ she told him. ‘Taken them on as a group.’ She rested her hand lightly on his arm. ‘You were very brave to scout ahead for us, Fion. Thank you for taking that on.’ She leaned in close to whisper to him. ‘Sometimes I curse the ill luck that set me on this journey to the King. Honestly, I don’t know how I’ll stand up to an attack, if one comes my way. Sometimes I find myself thinking I’d just run off like when my little flock scatters at the first hint of danger.’

She was about to say more when one of the other group’s men came walking over and began to introduce himself to Rædwald and the others of her group. Brand, he said his name was. From Wulfham. She frowned for a moment, the village name rousing some dusty memory in her thoughts. She could not quite catch the connections and shrugged it off as just some odd passing thought.

Meghan’s belly rumbled as he mentioned eating. Her eyes lit up at the thought of roasted bits of deer meat, sizzling hot from the fire. ‘Well, I for one would like to accept your invitation.’ She turned to Rædwald. ‘Didn’t you say you’d brought a little sack of oats? We can make oatcakes to fill in the empty spaces.’ She looked about the entire group. ‘I’m sure someone here will give me a hand.’

She stepped a little closer to Brand, her gaze traveling over his cheek wounds and those on his arms. ‘What happened to you?’ she said, her voice sounding genuinely interested. ‘I hope whatever did that is dead now!’ Her hand traveled up toward his face, but was quickly recalled as she realized he might take the action amiss. ‘Sorry!’ she murmured, her cheeks coloring. ‘I didn’t mean to be so bold.’

[Nogrod]

"I’m Brand, from Wulfham", Sythric heard Brand introducing himself just after he walked out from the situation. From Wulfham? Wasn’t old Griawan at the riders from Wulfham? A good man he was indeed. Raedwald would surely remember him. But why this oldtimer and the girl? Are these the only survivors of Wulfham? Wulfham burned down with only six survivors!

He had been angry. He had had justification to it. They had been over-jumpy and attacked clearly innocent people – with possibly disasterous results, if Fion could not continue. Where could we leave him? We couldn’t wait anyhow... And the bloody blanket there at the grass just had kicked him into the belly with a force of ten bulls. Now this Brand was clearly offended by him. That should have to be repaired, and hopefully soon. We are all in this same mess, all thrown asunder by these rough times, and would have to co-operate. Maybe we should take the swift riders of them with those of us able to ride fast, to tell also the story of Wulfham, and the slower ones would try to join the next refugee village together?

He heard Brand inviting them to eat and overnight with them. It sounded promising to his ears. But still he was faced with the old man – and the other young man and the girl. They had said nothing – they were all listening to Brand making the invitations.

Sythric addressed Leod: “So you are from Wulfham? Are there any other survivors? These surely are dark times! I knew a Wulfhamer back in the riders, Griawan was his name. He was a good man, and so I trust you others to be as well. Forgive me my anger. It’s not so much us who talk and act like that, it’s the times and the disstress, that talk and act through us with that impatience. I think we all will have to talk about this, maybe at the fireside, with some roast deer to go with it?”

[Valier]

Vaenosa had tried to stay quiet and tend the fire, but she was becoming restless. Now there were even more strangers in their midst. She did not like the look of the lot and was getting more irratated with every second that went by. The last straw came when she heard Brand offer these people a meal and for them to spend the night in their camp. How can he do this? Is he daft? There is a young girl in this camp, as well as three other females. How can we be safe? The look of these men! I swear, I will sleep not while they sleep near!
Vaenosa shot a look towards Brand, then whistled for Nay. He had finished playing with the tree bark and was about to come bug her for attention anyways. Grabbing his reins, Vaenosa stalked towards the small river. She didn't care to tell anyone where she was going or what they would think of her.

Stooping Vaenosa picked up a handful of rocks and began to chuck them into the water with great force. She was as stressed as She had been in a very long time. She was prone to harsh actions and words as if they would protect her, but now she was scared that with all these strangers she might let her guard down and be hurt in some way. I think I'll stay here for awhile. I am sure they can cook the meat by themselves. I did not come here to make friends, only to save my Mother.

"Nay what do you think of all this? I guess you could care less, the more people the more trouble you can get into eh?" Vaenosa said as she stroked Nay's mane. "Well you will have to sleep with me, my friend because there is no way I shall doze long and if someone approachs you will let me know." Nay answered her back with a snort and a tug on her hair. "Oww you creatin! I hate it when you bite my hair! It leaves it all crusty with your drool!" Trying hard not to bite him back, Vaenosa resumed to whipping rocks into the water tring to regain her calmness, so she could return to the camp before someone came there to find her. She was almost certain no one would come to find her, they probably wished she would just stay behind or get lost on the journey..