Scarburg Meadhall

[Groin Redbeard]

Erbrand moved across the rolling plains at great speed. The excitement had been building during the last few days away from Arlburg, and finally he was less then a league away from Scarburg. He was not usually this excited over these things, but the days away from his hometown had made his heart anxious to see the roofs of a town. For the first time in in two years he had known true happiness, nothing weighed him down as his horse carried him over mounds and open plains.

The thunder of the horses hooves blotted out the rattle of his possessions, slung across the horses back. He had crossed the river Snowbourne this morning and rode easy ever since, but his horse had proven restless and some of it rubbed off on him. His axe was slung on his back with a leather strap, and it gave him the feeling of a hunter just about to bear down on his prey. He clenched both of the reigns in his hands for a while before he slowly brought the horse to a stop. Just ahead of him was a great camp. Erbrand spurred his horse on, but at a much reduced pace. He dismounted his steed and led it up to the outskirt of the makeshift camp.

Erbrand cupped one hand to his mouth, "Hello in the camp!" he cried, not quite sure what do to. He looked uneasily as some of the faces peared towards him, he wondered if he had done the right thing shouting out instead of just waiting for someone to come.