Outracing the Flames RPG

[Eowyn Skywalker]

Glancing over at the woman riding beside her, Eostre couldn't help the doubtful look that lingered over her face. Though perhaps not so much doubtful as distrustful—everyone wanted to talk, to blather, to break her out of a shell everyone presumed she wore.

"Cold morning, isn't it?"

She snorted slightly. "Of course it's cold. You wouldn't expect it to be a warm day, would you?" came the reply from the woman, as she pulled her horse to the same pace as Athwen out of habit. Even if she didn't want to talk, there was such thing as respect. She wasn't going to shove it up someone's face, scream I don't care about the weather! Let them take a hint themselves, if they wanted...

Their paces now matched, the two horses carried along comfortably beside each other. The question had been a rhetoric; Eostre carried on without missing a beat. "What do you want?"

[Naria]

Starlight slowly plodded forth with the rest of the group and Incana found herself reflecting on the past evening and morning. It had been quite a chilly night and she remembered wanting a body next to her for warmth. This brought her to thinking about where Pup and gone to. Incana had not even realized that her friend had not been around at all since the new group arrived in their camp. She thought about getting up to look for him or at the very least call out for him, but she considered against the idea since she was relatively warm in her bedroll.

Incana awoke the next morning, noticing the frost that had creeped into camp and devoured everything that was on the ground including her own bedroll. Shivering she reluctantly crawled out into the chilly air and brought herself closer to the warm fire. Incana was having a bite to eat and some of Dorran's wonderful tea when she heard a yelping bark. Pup came through some bushes just to the right of her and he licked her face. "Well, well aren't you a sight for sore eyes" she said to him ending with a giggle. He was covered in soot and mud again. Oh dear she thought, he must have gone back to the village. "I am sorry that your home is gone, but I promise to take good care of you". A tear came to her as she tried to wipe some of the grime away from his eyes.

Her attention was immediately torn from the dog when she heard Brand announce that we were to pack our horses and move out right away. Incana's heart skipped a beat, either from excitement or dread, she was not sure and it gave her an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Incana finished up the last of her packing and secured everything to Starlight. She made one last glance around camp as to not leave anything behind and mounted her horse. Incana gave a quick whistle to Pup and Starlight and the three companions followed the group in the direction Brand had told them.


They had been riding for some time with little conversation. Incana had dozed off a few times and was in need of some stimulus. Since Vaenosa had decided to take the lead, yet again, and scout ahead. Incana thought it best to talk with someone else instead up catching up with the elusive Vaenosa. She just then remembered what the woman making oatcakes with her had said. Incana gave a click of her tongue to Starlight and caught up with Meghan. She herself had heard stories of a family that she had not known or met in Bregoware and wondered if maybe this young woman was a relative of hers. "Excuse me, I don't mean to be a bother, but I have heard stories from my Father that we have family in your village" Incana suddenly felt uncomfortable and did not know what to say next. "I am sorry miss, I guess what I am trying to say is....are you or do you know of the family I am speaking of?"

Incana felt foolish for being so brazen and just coming out with such a question to someone she barely even knew. She felt her cheeks grow warm and turned her head away from Meghan. Incana gazed at the sky and took note at how bright the sun was overhead and she also took note of that very sun's rays reflecting off of a dark ominous cloud that was just ahead of them. She could only hope that the older men would have them set up camp again before the group got too close to the storm.

[Undómë]

Rædwald


‘Well, I’ve known her since she was a wee girl . . . her and her brother, Leof. Her parents and I were friends.’ Rædwald shifted in his saddle to have a better view of Brand. ‘And when I returned from my years as a Rider, I settled in a small cottage on my brother’s land, not too far from Meghan’s family. I have no children of my own, never married. She and Leof are like my own niece and nephew.’ He held back a smile at the expression of . . . relief, it appeared . . . on Brand’s face.

He turned his face back to the trail, wondering what the two scouts had managed to find out about the way ahead. The two men rode along in companionable silence for a while, Rædwald beginning to think a bit more favorably about this man of Wulfham. He broke the silence with a casual comment, remembering that Brand had asked some other questions about Meghan. ‘She’s seen seventeen summers, by the way . . . and, I know you didn’t ask, but I could tell it was on the tip of your tongue to do so. ‘No, she has no “intended” waiting for her return . . .’

He chuckled to himself a little at the thought of Meghan’s quite firm opinions on the matter of sheep.

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Meghan


One of the women from Wulfham had come up to ride along with her. Incana, the one who had helped make the oatcakes. ‘Excuse me, I don't mean to be a bother, but I have heard stories from my Father that we have family in your village. Do you know of the family I’m speaking of?’

Meghan wrinkled her brow, trying to think of any of the villagers she could associate with Incana. Perplexed, she shook her head ‘no’, saying she could not recall anyone who had relatives that had come from Wulfham.

‘But maybe you can tell me if you’ve heard of one of my relatives,’ Meghan said, her face brightening that perhaps Wulfham or at least a village near it had been where her Great-great Uncle had gone off to live with his bride. ‘My Gran’s grandma was named Gerdë. And Great-great Grandma Gerdë had a twin brother named Garan. He was a goat farmer. And one summer he took his flock across the river and north to some newer pastures. And . . . well, to make a long story short . . . he never came back. And I guess for a long time the family thought he was dead. But like I said yesterday evening when we were making oatcakes, a Ranger passed through our village and left a message for the family. Garan had married a woman from one of the villages up north – maybe close to yours, Incana. Her name was Eolyn. But I guess they never came back to Bregoware to see Garan’s family. And all through the years, though now I know he must be long gone and his Eolyn, too, we wondered was he happy and had he prospered there with his new wife. And were there children?’ She turned a wistful face toward Incana. ‘If there were children, surely I must have any number of cousins, wouldn’t you think? I don’t suppose you’ve heard those names, have you?’

[Nogrod]

Thydrë was relieved to fly through the landscape. She enjoyed this crisp morning gallop to the fullest. And so did Sythric. But soon Sythric came to think about things, and kind of catched on the problems he was facing. He was used to ride dangerous missions with men like him, or Raedwald: battle-hardened professionals. During the later days, he had also joined similar missions, with able-bodied men, at least knowing the trade somewhat, and under a decent leadership. At both occasions, he had been able to trust, that everyone along would know the basic manouvers, would be able to defend himself in trouble for awhile, would know what to wait for, would have a stern heart, would know who to aid first...

He was also used to ride with young people like these, a bit younger maybe, but not so much. And anyhow, at least Fion and Athwen could have been his apprentices. But then, he had been their warm-hearted tutor and teacher, and there had been no real danger. Now it was different. There were so many factors to pay heed to!

Don’t delve into these things now, my man! Enjoy the ride as you used to – and do a good job! With Gillsfang, all would have been different: she would have chosen the track by experience and instinct, but with Thydrë it was different. She had been scouting only a couple of times, and thence had to be steered all the time. Needing to take care of their path badly broke his concentration of the surrounding landscape. “You’ll learn one day my girl, you’ll learn”, he whispered to Thydrë’s ear, as they galloped forwards through small gorges and beside lesser hills. How long a time will we be allowed to practise these things?

As he had volunteered to scout, he had already marked the one bit higher hill than the others, some twenty miles ahead of them to their right, as a place to go for. Using all the natural covers, he had approached it from the small gorge, as unnoticeably as possible – and had found the lower edge of it quite empty. So he started climbing up the lower slope and looked back. The party was riding two or three miles behind him with steady pace. Vaenosa was speeding forwards ahead of them, almost at the level of himself, and just passing out of sight, behind a small knoll, some two miles away south, south-east. Everything seemed quiet and peaceful from this higher vantagepoint.

Soon he got to the top of the hill. He jumped off Thydrë, patted her easily and encouraged her to take some rest, fastly unpacking the couple of the heaviest packages on her. Then he walked the few steps to the highest point of the hill, and took a look around. In bright daylight, he could fathom out the silhouette of Croacht up north. Croacht, the biggest and most important city of the Rohanian Wold-land. The city where he – and Raedwald – had spent their prime-years, almost fifteen of them: riding as the defenders of the Wold, but in the first place, as the defenders of that city. There it laid, seemingly intact, as there were no great smoke rising on above the horizon from the city, or any great armies marching over the land towards it. Sythric was so relieved! Good earth, bless my eyesight at this moment!, he thought to himself. This was the sight he had wanted to see, and been afraid not to have seen. And the best was, that he couldn’t find out any larger or smaller bands of orcs or easterlings going around the landscape. The plains were just empty of movement, the few individual groups of people, seeming refugees, notwithstanding. Of course there could be anything behind any one of those hills, cliffs, hillocks, coppices or small woods about, but still, the scenery looked calming enough.

Sythric walked to the southside of the hilltop and took a look towards the route their party was taking. Farther in the distance, there was a small hillock, covered by some trees. That could be a perfect place for the afternoon break – and some light-lunch! Sythric became aware of his stomach giving its view of things by a great rumble. He was hungry indeed. Just a lunch and some rest before the afternoon ride. And I still have those chickens! What could this Dorran-guy come up with them? That's the place.

He re-packed Thydrë, regretting it to her, and mounted again. He was surely relieved, almost happy. His worst fears had not shown to be true, as Croacht seemed to be still standing. Maybe the enemy was not so strong after all to lay all the Wold in fire? Maybe these were just concentrated, but still minor attacks, not the full war he had feared?

He reached the wood by the hillock sometime after the mid-day. Vaenosa was riding towards him, somewhat to the east of him, about a mile away. He had shown her all possible handsigns to show the place he meant, and Vaenosa had turned towards him some time ago. Sythric jumped down at the edge of the trees and was about to unpack Thydrë, as his eyes got notice of something. There were wide scratches at the barks of the trees near him, one tree had been fallen quite recently, and the boulder beside them had been rolled out of its place. He started studying the ground more carefully. Judging from the marks and footprints, there had been a party here, not more than two days ago. And that had been a party of orcs, not men! He was familiar enough with these traces to interpret them with some confidence. He remounted Thydrë in haste, taking a look at the immediate surroundings: they had come from the east and continued towards the west...

He heard Vaenosa coming and turned to face her. As she was some twenty yards away, he shouted: "Orcs! No more than two days ago, maybe nearer, going westward! We should rest here for a while, but this is grim news indeed!"

[Arry]

Brand fell into a satisfied silence as he and Rædwald rode along. It was just after noon; the sun having barely begun its downward track toward the west. The day was still chilly, though there had been a brief period where the sun shone out brightly in a cloud free sky. That respite from greyness had gone all too quickly, as a grouping of large, dark clouds scudded up from the south and covered the sun. The cold wind, too, began to pick up a little and Brand was certain he could smell the promise of rain borne on it.

‘Rædwald,’ he said, bringing Lady near to Lis. ‘Looks like a little storm is brewing. I think we should sit it out somewhere sheltered, don’t you? We’ve been riding for a long time now; the horses and riders need a rest and a little something hot to eat before we turn west and push on.’

He looked far to the south, scanning the gently rolling lands for a suitable possibility. ‘Look there!,’ he said, pointing to a low hill with a covering of trees. ‘It’s only a short ways away, let’s make for that and rest for a while.’ He turned his horse about, saying he would head back along the line of riders to let them know what they were doing. ‘I’ll count on you, then, to keep us moving toward it . . . yes?’

The companions were strung out, some riding alone, others riding alongside a companion. He headed first for Osmod, the rear guard to let him know the plan, then worked his way forward until he’d reached where Incana and Meghan rode.

‘Begging your pardon, ladies,’ he said in a genial tone as he came up alongside Starlight. ‘We’ll be stopping soon to eat and rest the horses.’ His eyes flicked up toward the cloud swollen sky. ‘And to wait out the rain, too, before we turn west. There’s a little hillock with some trees we can shelter under – put up tarps if we need to. Down south . . . just a little further. It’s about at the place Lord Aldwulf said we should make the turn to head westward. We’ll have something hot to eat and drink and then go on ‘til evening.’ He glanced past Incana only to catch Meghan as she looked quickly away.

‘Yes, well then, I’ll just go back up with Rædwald . . . see you ladies at the rest stop . . .’

It was a lame transition, and he wanted to kick himself for not being more clever. On the other hand he felt quite pleased with himself. He had caught for the briefest of moments, before she drew them away, her light blue eyes looking keenly at him. One could shed the regret of not being clever with that bright image firmly fixed in his mind . . .

[Tevildo]

As the riders plodded onward towards the low hill that Brand had shown them, one or two large raindrops came plopping down upon their heads. Dorran pushed his hood up and pulled his cloak tight about his shoulders. Once again, Brand had been right. This light sprinkle was likely to pick up and turn into a true rainstorm by the time they reached the hill he could just see in the distance.

Dorran had started the morning in good spirits, flashing a friendly smile at Athwen and waving once at Incana. As the road had spilled southward and the clouds had blown in, the young man had found his spirits sinking for no fathomable reason that he could spell out in words. He could feel a definite foreboding in the pit of his stomach, a sensation that he found impossible to ignore or wish away. But why that feeling was there or what it might portend, Dorran had absolutely no idea.

It was only after the rain started to fall that shadowy images, vivid and horrific, began to intrude on Dorran's conscious thoughts. He glimpsed images of a place far away in time and place: women and children shackled together at the ankle with an Easterling master parading up and down the line. Dorran shuddered as he recalled how Urik and his captains would pull the younger women out of line and then drag them off to some unknown destination, never to be seen again. The rest of the slaves were sent out to the fields, with many of them silently weeping to see their beloved kinswomen so cruelly torn away.

Dorran shuddered as he remembered the sharp barbs of the whips of the Easterlings. The men were not as powerful or overtly brutal as the Orcs, but many of the Easterlings exhibited something even more frightful. Their captors had possessed a keen intelligence and cynical spirit, taking absolute delight in causing mental as well as physical pain---not the sharp, rapid blows of the Orcs that would be over in a minute, halted either by their own stupidity or the merciful release of death, but a slow torture, more like the dripping of rainwater onto a hard dirt surface. Eventually, the persistent water would have its way and transform the hard dirt into a muddy bog.

Dorran gasped in surprise as fragmented images of blood and pain that he had intentionally repressed for many years came slinking back into his mind. The last time he had mentioned Easterlings to Brand, he had made a terrible mistake in judgment. They had ended up attacking some good men and women. Perhaps he should keep his mouth closed and say nothing. Everyone else was fearing the attack of Orcs. Why then should he be thinking of the Men of the East? But what if his fears and premonitions were real? Could he forgive himself for saying nothing? Dorran promised that, once they had gotten to the safety of the hill, he would try and pull Brand aside and quietly speak with him again.....

[Undómë]

Rædwald

Rædwald urged Lis to a gallop. Given her head, her long strides ate up the distance to the little tree-topped hill. He’d left the steering of the group in Brand’s capable hands as he went to string up a few tarps between the trees where the riders and the horses might shelter.

The clouds were just opening up more overhead; what had at first just been a few cold spatters on the ground of icy rain now pounded with increasing intensity as he reached the top of the hill. Sythric was already there. And between the two of them they put up several sheltering canvasses.

A small fire was built at the northern edge of the little shelter. It would be protected from the rain and the little wind would blow the smoke out from under the tarps. By the time the flames were crackling the group was just coming up the short path to the hill’s top.