Outracing the Flames RPG

[Undómë]

Bregoware

Meghan


‘Now, lass, I’ve been thinking . . .’

They had traveled in companionable silence for a while, letting the miles slip by without comment. Meghan had leaned over Ash’s neck and murmured a few sweet words to her. The March-warden’s wife had chosen well; the horse was a gentle ride and seemed attuned to what her rider needed. ‘A measure of oats for you, my dearie, when we reach our campsite for the night,’ Meghan had said to her.

Rædwald’s words broke in upon her thoughts of what her family might be doing now. Did they have all the belongings loaded on the hay wagons? Had they gotten one of the neighbor lads to help herd the goats along? The herd would probably number two score and ten or so now with the addition of Rædwald’s goats.

‘And what have you been thinking, Rædy?’ she asked, focusing her full attention on him now.

He was only a few more sentences into his thoughts when she pulled her horse to a stop and looked at him in a horrified manner. He was going on about the bargain he had made with her brother Leof, and she was aghast at what he was saying.

‘What do you mean . . . When you die?’ she said in a loud voice. ‘You’re giving me your goats should you not make it through to the end of this journey. And what store of coins are left from days as a Rider for their keep!’ She fumed and spluttered, her cheeks turning bright red in anger and disbelief. ‘Don’t even think on it! You’re going back just as I will, hale and well. And if we’re lucky our two herds will have increased by several more with the interbreeding. But that’s it . . . And don’t say another word about your being killed. I won’t hear of it!’

But go on, he did . . . his helm and mail shirt, the thick leather vest for padding beneath it, and his oaken lance with the sharp iron tip . . . well, they, he hoped, she would save for her first-born son as a present from his late Uncle Rædwald. And yes, he knew they looked a bit worse for wear at the present. But he’d brought his oil and polishing cloth and at the first opportunity would set them to gleaming once again.

Meghan choked and coughed as he finished his list for her. He’d brought his horse up close to hers and pounded her lightly between the shoulder blades with one hand as he offered her a drink from his waterskin with the other.

‘First-born son!’ she squeaked, her brows inching up toward her hairline. ‘Are you mad! That would require a husband to be got and I don’t see one in my near future nor farther down the road, either . . .’

‘Now lass, I’ve been giving that some thought, too,’ he said, nodding his thoughtfully at her. And with that began a litany of various eligible males from the village that she ought to seriously be considering.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath letting it out slowly. Perhaps the earth will open up and swallow me whole! But no, there he was, ticking off the good points of Gareth, Grindan’s son, the one who farmed near the eastern edge of the village proper.

Oh, this will be a long, long ride to the river . . .

[Nogrod]

Bregoware

Sythric answered Osmod’s call and rode to his side. Then he turned to Osmod and said. “Riding with some company is always preferable to riding alone, that’s my opinion too. Riding alone you easily fall to idle fantasies or soul-wavering nightmares.” He looked at Osmod with a smile, but then got more serious: “To begin with, I’ll tell you here and now, that I do trust you. Do not be doubtful of that. And because of my trust, I think we have some things to talk. Come!” With that he spurred Thydrë to a somewhat faster pace. After making a little headway to others, and feeling Osmod coming beside him, Sythric turned to him again.

“Well my friend. You know me. I’ve been with the riders from younger years than you are now, and I have taught young people, almost as the age of you, in the skills of arms and riding for almost ten years. I’m not boasting with this, don’t misunderstand me here. But I’m just trying to give you my reasons, why I said the things I said, back there at the fire. And why I feel it to be so urgent, that you’ll take the lead here.” He glanced rapidly behind them, happily noting, that the others were following them, not too far away, but not too close either. He cleared his throat, and continued:

“So, I know something about what it is to ride in a party with a mission, and I know a lot about, how young people can behave. Now the party of young riders is just off to a dangerous and important mission, and within a day, there are two old war-horses to help them. Now how does this feel? How does this affect you? It surely takes down your self-confidence, more with someone, less with others. Now how do you vent that out? Basically you either start to pick on others, or then you wrap yourself out from others, feeling more insecure every hour, whichever option you choose. Then you start to grumble, to accuse others, to whine, and at the end you don’t trust anymore. The party is not a team then. It’s just bunch of detached individuals. And if that kind of bunch faces trouble, it won’t work as a team, and the chances of failing rise too high.” He paused for a while, waiting for Osmod’s nod to continue, as if the things said had been followed.

“So we have to do everything to heal this possible wound, before it gets sour. And the best way I can see to attain it, is for someone of you growing some stature here. Showing the others, that you people are as well suited to this job as we oldtimers are. And to show, that we oldies’ are accepting the lead of the one of you. And I thought that you were the obvious one, as I don’t know very much about Eostre or Fionn, and as I know Meghan enough.” At that last remark he grinned joyously to Osmod, and winked his eye merrily.

“Don’t take me wrong with my last remark. She’s a lovely young lady, and I really understand why Raedwald is so attached to her. The world would be a better place with more people like her around. But surely, she is no war-band or scout-party leader, as you must know. And you had been the leader anyhow, before we got here.” Sythric looked, now quite seriously, straight into Osmod’s eyes for a second. Then he turned his head forwards, giving Osmod time to think about the things he’d just said.

After a while he turned back to Osmod again, and said: “You probably remember, I have allways called you a boy or a lad – as we have met at your father’s house, or at the village festivities. Now I say, that I truly believe you will be a good Man, a man worth of your mission. Do not let me down on my trust!”

[Maeggaladiel]

The horse was, for the moment, willing to obey commands. She had calmed considerably during the short time they had ridden, once Fionn had established that yes, she was going to carry him and no, she couldn't stop every five minutes to nibble at the grass. She now seemed perfectly happy to follow his orders to the letter. That made Fionn rather suspicious, but he decided to give the mare a chance.

Clicking his tongue and touching a heel to her flank, Fionn urged the horse faster to catch up with Osmod and Sythric. The prospect of being near others of her species seemed to please the mare. Fionn personally would have preferred to take their family's horse on this trip, but he was needed for their evacuation. So Fionn was left with this nag. Oh well; make do with what you have.

He brought her alongside Osmod's horse and slowed her to match his pace. He seemed to be coming in on the middle of a conversation between Osmod and Sythric, so he gave them a polite distance so not to interrupt.

[Nogrod]

Bregoware

Sythric and Osmod both noticed that someone had rode alongside them. It was Fionn. Before Osmod had time to answer anything, that Sythric had kind of just thrown to his face, Sythric was greeting Fionn heartily. “Master Fionn, do join us with the ride. I would really like to hear, how you are feeling today, and what do you think about the mission we have”.

Hastily Sythric hissed to Osmod, so that Fionn could not have heard it: “You have something to say over the things I just talked you, let's have them later”.

[Undómë]

Bregoware

Meghan eyed the men, or that is the majority of the men as Rædwald still rode by her, who were now clumped together like ticks on a dog. There were two of them, at first, Osmod and Sythric. With Sythric talking quite seriously to the younger man. And then up came Fionn. She rather liked him; he was still boyish enough to make her smile with his ingenuous manner. Still, he was a male, and soon he would be sucked into that great brotherhood of males around which she might only stand quite prettily and quite demurely staring in.

And then of course, there was Eostre. And sometimes she almost envied the woman her fierceness. Meghan dug deep in herself and could not find an answering strain. Sure, she shepherded her little herd about and kept them safe as she could. But who was she fooling with her thinking that she could ride with such . . .

She looked hard at the group of men, her brow furrowing, searching for an image on which to pin her thoughts. Eagles. That was it. Great birds of war, all big and majestic, clear eyed and so sure of themselves.

And what was it that Rædwald and Sythric had called her. Ah, yes . . . magpie, and sparrow. Bothersome birds, the both of them. And who would think to put such a small creature among heroes. Certainly none of the tales told about the fire she’d heard had ever featured such.

‘Ash,’ she whispered, leaning low over her mount’s neck, ‘you should have nipped me hard on the leg the moment I mounted you. Woken me from this dream that I might indeed be equal to the task.’ You’ve been a fool, Meghan! she chided herself, straightening up in the saddle. Better to make the right decision now, before the river is crossed, before you become nothing more than a liability.

Rædwald’s horse nickered and bumped lightly against her boot. Meghan flicked her eyes toward Rædwald, noting with a certain irritated alarm that he seemed to be scrutinizing her. She cocked her head at those riding at the front of their little group. ‘Shouldn’t you be up there? Discussing strategy and such?’ she asked in a somewhat peevish manner. She waved him away from her, slapping his horse on the hindquarters to drive him off. ‘Go talk of plans and important matters with your fellows. I’ll hear no more of suitable husbands and first borns. My head is aching already from your idle chatter.’

She stopped her horse completely, watching as he and the others drew further ahead.

[Arry]

Wulfham

‘I thank you for your telling of Vaenosa’s story.’ Brand was quiet for a while, his face thoughtful, as he absorbed the horrid details Incana had told him. ‘It explains quite a lot about her actions.’ He put his cup aside and stood up. It was his habit when he was faced with something of a serious matter to walk about a bit. His thoughts were more easily collected and viewed as he paced, he’d found. And this was certainly something of a serious matter.

‘Someone should let Dorran know these things.’ He crouched down to where Incana still sat. ‘Will you do this? It would come better from you as her friend, I think.’

Brand raised his hand to his face, rubbing at the bandage over his wound. He stood back up again, excusing himself from her company as he did so. ‘I’ll be back before nightfall,’ he said, picking up his cloak from the ground where he’d been sitting. ‘I need to walk for a while. I have some things to think on.’

He pulled his cloak about him and nodded to her, then let his steps take him away from the camp.

[Maeggaladiel]

Fionn looked slightly taken aback at the jovial manner in which Sythric invited him into the conversation. He had halfway expected to be treated as an unwelcome intruder, although he had little idea why he had expected this. Perhaps it was because they were both older than him, and certainly more worldly. There was little reason for them to have become friends under normal circumstances. But this was hardly normal, was it?

"Ah," he began uncertainly. "Pardon if I'm interruptin' anything." He looked around him, and his face burst into his usual grin. "It's just that I'm usually stuck bringing up the rear of the party." He leaned back in the saddle. "It's rather nice having a view of something other than the back of your heads once in a while. 'Course, that's saying nothing against the back of your head. Fine heads, they are, to be sure." He grinned again.