Outracing the Flames RPG

[Tevildo]

Dorran raced madly forward, his bow clenched tightly in his right hand and his quiver of arrows slung over his back. The boy was smaller and lighter than Brand and managed to overtake him, keeping a short distance ahead on the path. As Brand had thought, Lady had run a considerable distance from the camp. Relentlessly sprinting forward, Dorran covered nearly half a mile when he finally heard the hideous sounds of two animals braced in mortal combat.

Dorran scrambled over a fallen log and pushed through a thicket of bramble bushes, finding himself in the middle of a small clearing with large oak trees circling about on all sides. At the far end of the glade, he could see Lady pushed back against one of the trees. The horse was rearing up on her hind legs, with her forelegs striking out against her attacker. The cat was snarling and opening her mouth wide, her eyes flaming bright with hunger and rage. Now and again, the cougar raced forward, low to the ground, and tried to pounce on Lady's flanks, while attempting to avoid the horse's sharp, flying hooves.

Both animals showed the effects of their fight. There were deep scratches on Lady's flanks and withers. The cat had suffered an even more serious blow to her left side; blood had begun to ooze out onto her tawny coat and drip down to the forest floor.

Almost instantaneously, Dorran let out a shriek to let Brand know where he was and quickly cocked an arrow to his bow. He hesitated, afraid to let it fly, because the cat and horse were so close intertwined that it was impossible to aim at the one without endangering the other. He waited until the cougar slunk backwards to avoid Lady's flailing hooves and then let his arrow loose. It sped forward straight and true towards the cat's breast, but at the last minute the animal swerved abruptly, twisting her body to the right. With a thud, the arrow struck the cat's left haunch. As stinging pain registered on her crazed mind, she turned about from Lady and, howling in madness, leapt at Dorran.

[Eowyn Skywalker]

Eostre accepted the proferred piece of liver, giving it a thoughtful glance before eating the piece of warm meat. "Thank you greatly." She realized for a moment that she was surprisingly hungry; her stomach grumbled ever so slightly at the smell of the fresh meat from a newly killed rabbit. Eating the piece carefully, she wiped the blood off of her fingers on the edge of her tunic.

There was, for a moment, a hint of a grin there. "Shall we make an attempt to snare one more and keep excess for breakfast, or return to the others?"

She glanced off into the bush, listening for the potential rustle of another creature, but the fresh smell of blood kept them fairly distant, wary in the scent that could only read as death. They wouldn't snag another if they hung around too long.

[Naria]

Wulfham


Incana stood alone as Brand and Dorran left her to find Lady and kill the female cougar. She felt overwhelmed and scared wondering what to do about this big male hiding in front of her; she stood quietly with not a sound nor a breeze to be had in the air around her. She then heard footsteps approaching from behind and thought that one of the men had come back to help. Incana turned her head slightly to the right and saw Vaenosa come into view.

Incana had a sudden thought come to her, she had no idea if it was delerium from the pain or what was going through her head. She whispered to the other woman,"We are the same height so I don't think that the cat saw your approach. I will be the bait so we can lure him out into the open. Then you can take him out with one of your arrows." Incana nodded at Vaenosa and hoped that this other woman was as good as she had boasted. Incana took a deep breath and with a painful shreek dropped to the ground.

[Valier]

Wulfham

Everthing had now becoma a blur to Vaenosa. There were two Cats! How could she have been so stupid! She was sure there was just the female. Now images were flashing through her mind of the group being torn apart because of her lack of vocal warning. She should never have thought she could kill the cat and awaken the group, showing them her great deed. She was ashamed. She would not make a poor decision again. She was going to protect the injured woman even if it meant harm to herself.
She approached the woman from behind and as she neared Incana turned to her and whispered, "We are the same height so I don't think the cat saw your approach." She offered to be the bait, while bravely stating that Vaenosa should fell the beast with an arrow. With a shreek she dropped to the ground.

At that exact moment it was like time had slowed and Vaenosa's mind cleared. She raised her bow, swiftly readying an arrow. Then as if on cue the young male feline sprung with a snarl upon the fallen body of Incana. But Vaenosa was ready.She let the arrow fly. It hit it's mark with a sickening noise, she had pierced its eye.It was all over in the wink of an eye.The cat fell onto the body of the brave fallen maiden like a sack of heavy potatoes.
Without a second thought Vaenosa ran forward and rolled the carcass of the dead cat off of Incana. She began to panic, she was not sure if Incana was breathing. "Incana! Incana!" She screamed shaking the limp body. Then she heard a moan escape the woman's lips. Vaenosa smiled. She would be alright, as long as they tended her wounds soon.

Turning back to the cat Vaenosa took one of her daggers from its sheath. She gave the beast a swift kick in the ribs, then grabbed it by the back of it's head.She used her dagger to pry from it's jaws the fangs that could have been Incana's demise. Wiping her blade she placed it back away and tucked the fangs in her pouch that hung at her side. She turned to face the delema of what to do with the unconcious woman.

Grabbing Incana under the arms, Vaenosa tried to smoothly half drag the woman back towards the now cold fire. She propped Incana's head on her bedroll and covered her with her own. She checked the woman's breathing, then satisfied that she was just asleep, she quickly hurried to the small stream.

Vaenosa washed the blood from her slender fingers and splashed the chilling water on her face, then she cleaned the fangs letting the blood flow away from her with the current. The adrenaline was leaving her and she was beginning to be concerned with where Nay had run to. She walked back to the camp like a person who is sleeping while walking, she had not yet slept and she was almost exhasted from all the emotions that had coursed through her this day. The day seem to never end, like she was going to live these moments forever.
Incana was still as she approached. Vaenosa bent down and opened the womans fingers and placed the fangs in her palm, then closed her fingers about them. They were rightfully hers, she had sarificed herself.

Vaenosa rose, then scanned the area for her horse. She found him leaning against Starlight for comfort like he would his mother, not far from where she was. She lead them back towards the camp, while picking up wood along the way. They would need a roaring fire so the men could find their way back and Incana's wounds could be treated.

Within minutes she had a fire started and began to add larger fuel. All she could do now was heat some water and wait for the men to return. She had only rudimentary knowledge of healing. She hoped one of the men knew more than she did or, Incana could be in trouble if the wound festered. She could clean the wound and keep it covered that was the least she could do.

[Farael]

“I don’t think another rabbit will be necessary, Eostre” Osmod said as he took an arrow from his quiver and nocked it on the bowstring. He then drew the string slowly, aimed at what seemed to be an empty branch on a nearby tree and released the arrow. The arrow missed the snake that was perched on it, but hit the branch hard enough to shake it loose. Osmod grabbed the reptile after it fell to the ground and a cut close to its head finished the struggle. It was by no means a large animal, just over three feet long and two inches thick, but it would do given their need to hurry.

The group agreed to go back to the camp, they had left Fionn alone for too long and Osmod worried the fire might have brought unwanted attention. As they neared the camp, he stopped abruptly. “There are tracks of a single horse going towards the camp. I might be overreacting but I fear we have been followed. We don’t know whether it may be friend or foe, so I’d suggest we prepare for the worst. Ladies, the March Warden would have not let you join us if he thought you were not ready for fighting and I trust his judgement. Let’s approach camp with our weapons ready and our eyes open.” He drew his sword slowly and with a stern look on his face, he walked towards the light of the fire. He was not close enough to see clearly, but it seemed that Fionn was not alone.

[Undómë]

Bregoware

Meghan


‘Snake!’ Meghan’s mouth was watering as they made their way back to the campsite. The rabbit would have made a mouthful each for them, just enough to take the edge off her hunger. Truth be told, she could most likely have eaten half of it herself. But a nice, fat snake! There would be enough meat to satisfy her grumbling, empty belly. And plenty yet to smoke over the coals for breakfast.

She was last in line as they walked along. Her thoughts drifted from her hungry gut to wondering how her goats were doing. Had Leof remembered to separate the two billies? The younger one already had a barely healed gash from trying to move in on her old fellow as “lord” of the herd.

They had come to a stop and Osmod was talking. His words barely registered as she worried over her problem. ‘. . . prepare for the worst.’ She nodded her head in agreement. There’d be a great deal lost if the young billy was mortally injured. She had planned on splitting her flock; she had enough nannies now, to do that. And with him at the second group’s head, there would be more babies of good stock.

‘Let’s approach camp with our weapons ready and our eyes open.’ That phrase and the slight snick of his blade as it was pulled from its sheath snapped her to full attention. Meghan drew close behind Osmod and followed him into camp. Her bow was at the ready should it be needed against the intruder.

She peeked around Osmod as they entered the camp’s perimeter. How odd, she thought. ‘If he is a danger to us, why does he sit so comfortably by the fire, tending it with a stick?’ she thought to herself.

The man turned his head for a moment as if speaking to someone on the other side of the fire. In the darkness her blood rushed to her cheeks in surprise and in anger.

‘Son of a three-horned ram! I can’t believe Leof would do such a low, stupid thing!’

[Maeggaladiel]

Fionn was about to reply to Raedwald, but an angry voice cut him off abrubtly.

"Son of a three-horned ram! I can’t believe Leof would do such a low, stupid thing!" Startled, Fionn turned and saw Meghan, Osmod and Eostre approaching the camp. Meghan did not look overly pleased to see the newcomer.

Of course. Now it was TWICE that Fionn had been left alone, only to be taken by suprise. Luckily these past two times it had been friends who approached him, not enemies. A dark smile crossed his face. It was a good thing he was nothing but Fion of Bregoware, son of a farmer. He'd be the worst Rider that Rohan had ever known.

"Welcome back," Fionn said to the others. "We have company." He grinned. "He brought potatoes, and he showed up faster than you lot did, so I had to let him in. I was practically starving."

[Nogrod]

Bregoware

Sythric

Night had falled, but the moon was shining brightly. As the path was quite familiar, Sythric found no reason to slow down the pace. The earlier he would catch the party, the more hours of sleep he and Thydrë would gain for tomorrows’ ride. That was a simple equation.

After his evening “meal”, he had not passed over to those trance-like memories, he had done during the early evening hours. Most of the time, his head was just blank. But every now and then, thoughts and remembrances sprang into his mind. Especially the words of the old Hugebryth seemed to be recurring: “They sure can ride, and some of them propably can hunt or fend off foxes from their goat herds. But have they ever even seen an orc, or an easterling warrior in full armour, not to talk of confronting one, or ten?”

Sythric was not doubting the bravery of these young riders. Quite on the contrary: all the youngsters he had teached in the arts of war, had been magnificiently ready to go for every possible trouble and danger to just learn more. Now how about in times of a real need? There was no doubt in his mind about that either: Bregowarians were no cowards! He was just doubting their reactions, and their actions, if a real danger would come upon them. What your heart says, and what you actually do, are not simply the same thing. One does not know beforehand, how one reacts in a critical situation, not until the proof of reality shows it to you. You can train yourself over the years - via experience, toil and labour, and basically painful memories of the times when you have failed - to get those two things closer together. But it still is hard, at least for everyone I know, myself included, every time it’s tested.

He got halfway back to the here and now of the real world, and tried to think in a more controlled manner. One thing seemed clear enough. They would have to count on stealth, and if coming up with enemies, then on speed. We would propably be quite good in that. Oh, we will be! At least Swithulf’s children were good last night. And Hunlaf! ... Was is just last night? Not even a full day ago? Was it about this time when the horns were blowing? Maybe a bit later, maybe a bit later...

But then again. Even if that last night’s ride was truly demanding for the youngsters – it was a fast ride in the dark of the night, through paths quite unfamiliar to most of them – it still wasn’t real. It wasn’t real in the sense of, say, easterling light cavalry being after us. One mistake last night didn’t mean brutal and instant death, but just some bruises and the nuisance of being a little more late. There is a certain difference between running for your life for real, practising it, or just generally trying to ride fast, for a reason or another. Sythric grinned amiably at the thought, having his own particular memories about being nauseatingly late, for reason or another.

But had any one of these young people ever really had to scare for their lives? Not just daydreaming about it, but actually feel the energy pushing through the veins: clinging to their lives, feeling it so dear for the first time, so on the edge, so fragile, so here and now? Or how about really felt the after-the-first-shock –feeling in a battle: being kind of an outsider, like in sleep, away from oneself and still being “ me”; in real world, but still somewhere else, not trying anything, not fearing anything, not thinking anything. Just acting and reacting: just a pure instinct, an underlying desire to live, and the vague hope of making the difference. But how to act? After hours and hours of rehersal, a soldier could act instinctively about the right way. How about these youngsters?

As he was just about to fall really deep into his memories, a small correcting move of Thydrë woke him up. They had just leaped over a small ditch, and Thydrë was avoiding the small boulders spread over the grass around a big artifically carved menhir. Wise horse you are, and seemingly worried about me, falling out of this world again. “Thank you my friend”, whispered Sythric aloud, near Thydrë’s ear, patting lightly its neck. Then he rose to his normal riding posture, letting Thydrë know, it was bussiness as usual again. He was awake once more.

Before long, he came to think about his earlier thoughts. Where did I start these mind’s wonderings the last time? It was the youngsters’ ride last night. That was it. Was it?

He remembered Waermund and Waerferth, he remembered Winflaed, he remembered his brother. He remembered Hunlaf. He remembered Cwen, he even remembered Ceolflaed. Sythric had passed the Bregowarian evacuation-caravan readily before the afternoon had turned to a dusk. He had passed them from about a half miles’ distance. He just wasn’t in a mood to any more farewells, or tough enough to meet his childrens eyes one more time, just to let go again. He had indeed recognized Skara-people from the long line of the refugees marching slowly south-west. Then he had spurred Thydrë to change from easy canter to a steady trot. He would not want to see this unhappy sight any more! It was far too personal and humiliating sight to be looked at. Now his mind dwelled in these last sightings of the evacuation: a line stretching over like a snake, made of tiny little bees, crawling slowly forwards, ahead of a fire that would burn... It was already a defeat, before anything had actually happened.

But there was something else, he had been thinking of, before these personal distractions. Oh yes, we would be fast, and rely on stealth. Surely. But what if...? What if we get surprised, what if we are run over off-guard? The thought chilled every bit of him.

He hurried Thydrë to run for it. He was awake now, up to his every cell. The moon lit their way over the grassland.

[Undómë]

Bregoware

Rædwald


‘Now lass . . .’ Rædwald stood up his arms out to his sides, fingers splayed open. ‘Is that any sort of greeting for an old friend? And here among those I have not had the opportunity to greet properly.’ He took a few steps forward hoping she would not skewer him with an arrow.

He stopped and put his hands on his hips, his teeth flashing in a quick grin at the approaching trio. ‘Rædwald, at your service,’ he said, nodding to Osmod, Eostre, and lastly to Meghan. ‘And yes, Leof has sent me, little mistress. But only to secure the ongoing health of his herds.’

She snorted at his explanation. But he waggled his finger at her saying, ‘Yes, it is true. If you do not make it back, he fears your goats will wither away for the want of you. And so melancholy will they be that his goats will catch the wasting sickness . . . and then the chickens will all go into molt . . . and who knows where the winds of disaster will spread from that.’ He shook his head dolefully and wiped an imaginary tear from the corner of his eye. ‘The entire village of Wulfham could be nothing but grieving ghosts if you do not make a safe return, little mistress. And then what good would all this riding to the King be?’

---------------

Meghan


Meghan’s shoulders began to shake; a laugh broke from her though she did not will it. Shoving her arrow back in the quiver at her belt, she slung her bow on her back and ran to give him a quick embrace.

‘I never could stay angry at you, Rædwald. You old dog! I guess you can stay . . . that is if the others will have you.’

---------------

Rædwald


It was the potatoes, he thought, that most likely won them over. That and perhaps the stories he could spin. It had been a long time since he’d had any new ears to hear old stories of campaigns and battles and rides for glory and such. Meghan, of course, had heard most of his tales, but she was as accommodating as ever – laughing at the old jokes urging him to tell another.

The night grew late; the fire was banked. And a watch was set for the first hours of sleep. Osmod volunteered for it and took his position a short ways from camp on a little rise. Before settling down for the night, Rædwald walked out to where the young man sat on a flat rock. He had wanted to offer his pouch of pipeleaf in case Osmod wanted a smoke as he kept vigil.

‘Now, what’s that,’ he said, peering over the man’s shoulder at the design he’d drawn in the dirt. Osmod shrugged off the question, as if to say it was nothing really. A few pleasantries were exchanged, then Rædwald bade him goodnight, asking if he would wake him for the next watch.

[Nogrod]

Bregoware

Sythric rode towards the fire. Well it’s safe enough here, and really helps me, but is that wise?, he thought, and kept riding. After coming to a distance a shout would cover, he slowed down Thydrë’s pace and continued with easy canter. There was someone, a shadow lit by the fire being on guard. Well, they have a guard. Good thinking, he thought. He saw the shape of the guard rising up and coming to alert position. He then stopped and yelled.

“People of Bregoware! I’m your friend, sent by the council. Don’t be afraid of me, but come forwards!”.

After voicing himself, Sythric leaped off Thydrë and came walking down, some 200 ft. away from the fire. Sythric saw the guard’s shadow moving around, and heard him shouting something back to someone he hadn’t seen yet. Quite soon he saw figures rising up. Just shadows against the dying fire, but still, human beings, rising up and coming towards him.

Sythric walked leniently towards the gathering party, and finally got the glimps of the first man standing in front of him.

“Raedwald! You old war-horse! How come am I seeing you here?”

Sythric let go of the reins of Thydrë, and embraced the other man amiably. They both patted each other to their backs quite heavily. The others had gathered around them by the time the embrace was done with. Sythric and Raedwald both looked to each others’ eyes and seemed happy to see one another. The others’ were standing around, like question-marks in a sentence.

[Arry]

Wulfham


The cat, Dorran’s arrow stuck in the left haunch, leapt at her tormentor. Brand raced toward his companion, a growing fear that he would not come soon enough. His oaken cudgel was held high in his right hand as he reached the now downed Dorran.

The force of the cougar’s leap had knocked the young man down and her jaws sought his throat for the kill. Dorran blocked the cat’s mouth with his bow and his arm as best he could.

Brand swung his club knocking hard against the cat’s left shoulder, driving the sharp teeth from their target. The cat rounded on him, snarling, and he strove to drive it away with the burning brand. It proved only a momentary deterrent.

With one swipe of her mighty paw, she knocked the brand from his hand, her claws raking down his left arm. Brand dropped his club, there was no room to use it; his sword, still in its sheath could not be drawn quickly enough.

And then she was nearly upon him . . .

The razor sharp tips of her left paw cut deep gouges on the right side of his face from temple to chin, missing by only a little his eye and the unprotected place at the side of his neck where the pulse beat rapidly. The cat crouched low, her muscles quivering with deadly intent. She sprang up and toward him, covering the short distance in less than the blink of an eye.

Brand barely had time to draw his knife with his right hand, and set it as a last defense against the cat’s mortal attack. The weight of her drove him backwards; he felt her hot breath upon his face. The knife, held in a near death grip in both his hands, sank deep into the cat’s chest. He felt the warm blood of her rush over his fingers.

She bore him down, pinning him between the unforgiving hardness of the ground and her self. His head struck hard against the dirt and darkness took him . . .

[Tevildo]

Dorran groggily pulled himself up off the forest floor, his head throbbing with pain. The world spun crazily about him. The force of the cat's attack just moments before had sent him sprawling onto the ground. Tentatively stretching out one leg and then the other, he was relieved to discover that he had not been seriously injured. Still, when Dorran attempted to stand and come over to Brand, the young man showed signs of being dazed and disoriented, and had some trouble walking. The wind had been knocked out of him.

Lady, who had sprinted boldly out of the thicket when the cougar attacked Dorran, now threaded her way through the bracken to stand beside her master, gently nuzzling his head. Despite the shallow cuts on the horse's flanks and withers, she looked to be in decent shape. The wounds needed cleansing, but that must wait till they returned to camp.

With great effort, Dorran knelt down beside Brand. The young man was not a healer, but he had plenty of experience caring for sick and injured steeds. Dorran reached his hand out to Brand's chest, felt the steady beat of his heart, and then began to examine his body and limbs. His friend had been knocked unconscious by the weight of the falling cat and had suffered a number of injuries. Fortunately, these wounds did not seem to threaten his life. There was little that Dorran could do for Brand since he did not even have water or clean rags. It was unlikely that Brand would wake up immediately. Moreover, Dorran's own wounds, though relatively minor, made it impossible for him to carry Brand on his own. He had no choice but to try and make his way to the main camp and get someone to help him.

Dorran took off his coat and placed it over Brand's upper body, and then dragged the carcass of the cougar well over to the side, beyond the ring of trees, so that no scavenger would bother his friend's fallen body. Dorran thought of trying to mount up on Lady but that did not seem like a practical idea. Glancing about the clearing, he found a stout branch on the ground that he could use as a staff and slowly began to make his way back down the long path as quickly as he could. The distance back seemed infinitely longer than when he'd gone running after the cougar. After what seemed like a very long time, he thought he recognized some familiar sights not too far from their camp. Dorran cried out in the darkness, "Incana, Vaenosa? Anyone there? Can someone help me with Brand?"

[Valier]

Wulfham

Vaenosa sat gazing at the fire waiting for the water to boil. She picked up her pack and rummaged through it, she had brought no first aid supplies. She was sure one of the others had brought some, but she did not want to rummage through their packs, they distrusted her enough already. She instead pulled a wad of fabric that had once been her childhood blanket. When she left, she had to take it....to remind her of her mother.But now it was all she could find that was clean. She took the now boiling water from the fire with two sticks she had fashioned as tongs and placed it aside to cool.

Incana was still unconcious and it had been at least an hour since the attack. Vaenosa lifted the bedroll and sat deciding how to get the woman's pants off. After a second look she saw the horses hoof had ripped them substantially. She pulled out her dagger and slit the woman's trousers from the hem to above the wound. Dipping the blanket in the water and ringing it out Vaenosa began to sponge the wound for a better look.The cut was not too deep but, there would be a painful bruise. She cleaned it as best she could, then trimmed a strip off the hem of the woman's trousers and wound her leg tightly through Incana's moans.Hopefully she would awaken soon.

Vaenosa stood and looked around the camp. It was still fairly dark but, the fire lit a large part of it.She was beginning to wonder what had happened to the men. They had only left Wulfham not one day ago and they were already in trouble. Vaenosa was afraid they would never return and if they did what condition would they be in?

She paced back and forth infront of the fire awhile, until she felt a wet nose on her neck, it was Nay and he needed her to comfort him. Starlight was not far behind. "I am sorry my boy! I forgot this must have terrified you two!" She placed her forhead on his neck, with his neck stretch over her shoulder. Starlight approached and leaned against Vaenosa for comfort. She stood holding them for a long time it seemed. Then tired she sat down again and added more logs to the fire. She leaned back against a log. The exhausted maiden fell asleep.

The figure that bent over her Father stood and faced her...she screamed. The man rushed towards her with a manic smile and picked her up like a rag doll, throwing her over his shoulder. He headed towards the cellar where it was cold and damp. He stumbled down the rickety steps and threw her into a corner.The friendly man who came calling asking for a bed and a warm meal in exchange for some handiwork was gone. All that stood before her was a manic, demon man who had planned this along. He stood panting and gasping before her , his eyes like deep dark black pools. He ripped from her small body the dress she wore and advanced with intent...Then he began to change...He was now becoming the cougar with teeth bared. He sprang for her neck.....

She half- awoke from her nightmare with a strangled scream, clawing the air at an unseen assailant.