Quest - Ledger of Rituals - Abduction

[Radulfr]

Finner would arrive at the Inne with Khels conditioning worsening by the moment. The burns were deep and covered a good portion of his body. The removal of his armament only caused more damage to be created by the ripping away of flesh it had melted to. Once he made way to the Inne, he quickly dismounted and ran to the door. Pushing it open with great force as he barged in breathlessly.

Radulfr was behind the bar tending to matters when the door was harshly opened and the man came rushing through. At first he was on his guard of an attack, when he recognized the man as one of Randells. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out something was wrong. "Where is she?" Came the gruff tone of the warrior.

"I don't know, last I seen her, she was racing towards the city. Khels, the other guard, he's greatly injured." Finner said while trying to catch his breath and looking up at the brawn of the man who was one a fierce warrior; or so he was told.

Rad growled lowly in knowing Kat was out there alone and facing who knows what. "Bring him in; we'll do our best to tend to him. I want to know what happened!" A command given the man, as if he was giving orders to a lower ranking member of his long ago army.

"I need help!" Finner complained as he headed towards the door. "He's in too much pain for me to move alone." Then out the door he moved to the side of his companions injured horse upon the back was draped its owner.

When he stepped outside the stench of burnt flesh and hair assaulted his sense. "What in the name of the Gods." Lowly cursed as he moved forward and took note of Khels body. Not another word to be spoken while he helped Finner carry Khels into the Inne and then up the stairs to a room to where he could be tended to and rest. "Talk now!" He growled to the white faced Finner.

"He ... it ... whatever in the nine hells that thing was, attacked us. It spit fire out of its mouth, that's what got poor Khels here. Then the beast it rode upon, a monster in its own right came charging towards me and my horse with huge tusks that would impale the largest of creatures and kill them instantly. My horse spooked and ran off. The last I saw of the lady, she and her horse were at a dead run heading towards the city. The creature and the beast it rode were in pursuit. That's all I know." Looking to Khels and then back to Rad. "Is he going to die? What are we to do?" He wasn't scared; at least that's what he kept telling himself. Not so much of what happened, as to what would when Randell found out what happened. He feared Randell more than he feared death.

Rad just stood there seething, he knew he should have accompanied her as well when she left with that ... thing! No sense in crying over spilt milk, action now had to be taken. He'd look to the guard and shrug. "I don't know if he'll live or die. Lilly will take care of him. You and I are going after Kat!" Simply stated as he quickly moved from the room the injured man was in and headed towards his own downstairs. A side trip to the kitchen to inform Lilly of the injured man and her needing to attend to him as long as he lived. Then onwards to his room where he collected his battle armor and swords. Adorning all before striding out of his room and bellowing for Finner. "WE RIDE! NOW!" He then strode out of the Inne and towards the stable to prepare his mount.

Finner's head was reeling with all that had happened. What was supposed to be a simple escort turned into a living nightmare instead. Now he was stuck with an old warrior who seemed to have gone mad. "Going after ... did you hear anything I said?" But he did scurry after and remained in the main room until Rad brushed passed him. His movements were clearly of a man on a mission, and he'd simply follow along. He managed to escape once, he'd do it twice if need be. He'd let Rad lead and he'd follow behind.

His chosen horse was quite a strong animal, one that had made it through many campaigns with him and survived. He'd only pause for a moment to allow Finner to mount his horse, then down the road he'd head at a gallops pace. He knew not if Kat made it to the city, or was fighting for her life somewhere outside it. If she was battling for her life he would ride as if demons were hot on his tail to get to her and help. He would smell the fire long before they came upon it. The flames licking at the trees and burning the ground, though slowly losing momentum and strength due to the dampness of the autumn night. This made his stomach knot and his heart ache and made him more determined on finding the woman he viewed as his daughter.

Finner would slow his mount when they came upon the destruction of the land. He had little hope of finding the Nordic woman alive. His eyes slowly drifted over the area in search of, but could see very little through the thick waves of smoke. "It's not looking promising."

"Shut up!" He growled and glared back at Finner. His gaze would turn to look over the area in search of any sign of her or the beast. "She could have gotten away!" Always the optimist. Though inside he knew that Finner was right, he'd not openly say so. Looking back to the man. "Ride on to the city, sees if she managed to get back there. If you don't find her, then seek out Randell and tell him of this and your injured man. I'll find Osiris myself when I prove there's nothing here to find."

It didn't break his heart to be told to ride on, yet he really didn't want to go to the city either. He'd nod his head in understanding and agreement. An urge of reins being tugged and touch of heels to flank, he'd set his horse into a gallop towards the city. If he seen no signs of the Nordic woman, it would be Randell he'd seek out.

He would watch as Finner rode away and then slid from his own mount to see if he could find any signs. It would be a movement off to his side to capture his attention. Drawing his sword he'd hunker low and head that way to see what lurked within the rolling banks of smoke. It wouldn't take long to find what he sought. It was Kats horse standing in a clearing free of fire, pacing and pawing at the ground as it tossed its head and snorted. This wasn't a sign he wanted to find, and it told more than anything else would. The horse would never have left her side, so she was either injured, dead, or taken. This prompted him more in his search as he quickly moved through the burning debris. "Kat .... KAT .... Where are you?" He'd continue to call out as he searched the area for her. He knew not how long he combed the area, before he came upon the tree with the dagger stuck into its side. He recognized it immediately, even though it was covered in blood and soot. That massive paw of his would reach up to effortlessly pluck it from the trees side. Another omen that things did not fare well for his Kat. He would continue to search for a few more hours before giving up the fact that she wasn't there. He'd use that as a sign that she was still alive, or at least that's what he'd tell himself to keep going. Moving back to Kats mount, he'd slap it on the rear and send it back towards the Inne. It would show up at the stables and Lilly would tend to him after. Getting upon his own horse, her dagger still in his grip, he'd ride towards the City. It was time to find Osiris and let him know what he found. He blamed the man for this, but now was not a time for a pissing contest.

[Radulfr]

Despite the recent activity of the last few evenings the port city of Kiel was rather quiet. It was like the eye of the storm where not many souls stirred at this hour and many were succumbing to the rumors of the Dead One and the Barbarian King. Even the clouds of the night seemed scarce leaving the full moon out in full display. The temperature had cooled tremendously given autumn setting in. No sign of rain but there was a subtle breeze that picked up from time to time. Osiris felt something was off not having heard from Ekaterina. The Tsol Raa wasn't a seer by any means. There was still the need to speak with Nadja but he could sense a much more troubling source. Osiris was slowly evolving as his power consumed his humanoid form. The man's onyx eyes set deeper like the very stone. Strains of ethereal veins skipped variously along his arm and an additional source down the right eye. The majority of him covered to prevent others from questioning. This was another reason why he hardly stepped foot outside of Ekaterina's manor. It was another reason why he was out this evening. She hadn't been home and it was unlike her. He suspected something was afoul but before he made any assumptions he was going to have to see a few people first. Dark hood covered most of his features while a matching robe covering leather and metal provided coverage for his stalwart frame. Leather gloves and boots to match for additional leverage in the art of silence and quiet motion. He stood at the end of the docks with his abyssal gaze casted out to sea.


The sound of thundering hooves would far precede horse and rider. When finally visualized, one would think the rider was running from the Devil himself. The dim light of the moon reflected from the surface of aged and worn out armor the old Viking had worn in many a battle. The cape meant to maintain warm flapped wildly behind him, like a set of leathery wings attempting to take flight. Shouts to clear a path preceded the riding mad man as he made way through the streets at a full gallop. Intent was to head to the Manor, for that's where he expected to find the one he sought. Until he rode passed the very one he was searching for. A tight draw back on the reins sent the chestnut to rear upon hind legs and scream out in equine protest. It danced in a circle a few times before he was able to regain control and direct the horse back towards Osiris. When near, the horse had hardly ceased in motion when he all but jumped from its back. Strides of purpose and fueled by anger carried him forth, that bloody dagger still within fisted grasp. "You!" A roar more than a shout out to gain Osiris' attention, as if his means of arrival hadn't already. "I should just slit your throat here and now!" Hand with the bloodied dagger raised and it was shook at him like a finger raised in accusation. His breaths were rapid and shallow, as if it was he who ran the distance rather than his panting mount, the chestnut hide beginning to show signs of lather from being ridden so hard. "If it wasn't for the fact I bloody well need you now!" A growl of words. His anger could be seen upon his face, the way those veins at his temples stood out and throbbed with life. The glare of those dark eyes that fixed upon Osiris' form.

Osiris could hear the roaring thunder from the horse's stampeding rush until a familiar voice caught his attention. Needless to say, Osiris didn't turn to see who it was for he already knew. The man's anger and ire had already been felt once and such a feeling wasn't so forgettable. The sound of the large Viking’s steps of authority the next indication that he was in for an earful. Even still, the Tsol Raa's back was given to the much larger male as he continued to focus his energies. The roar to follow and the threat to come right after hadn't seemed to strike with Osiris according to his response. What was it? There wasn't one. Need he? Funny. A second ago he was wishing to carve a second face into him. Osiris merely held up a gloved hand to silence him. “For a man of the sword you let your anger overwhelm you," nearly whisper but Osiris's words carried a deathly chill. Evidence that there had been further mutation from the forbidden arts he had unlocked. “You’ll tell me that I should go find her and that I should stop wasting time casting my attentions out to sea.” A light tilt of his head but the shadows of the cloak prevented anything to see within. Even now his tones were abyssal and contained an unearthly depth. “Curve your tongue and soften your grudge, Radulfr.” It was neither a demand nor a request. Advice. “And, put your blade away. It is just as useless pointed at me. “Osiris then turned to face the hulking Viking.

"Overwhelm me?" Words again came in a low growl as he moved closer. "You knew it had her?" If Osiris thought he was angry at first, he was simply seething now. "You knew!?" All intent and purposes was to drive that dagger into the body of the man before him. To drive its blood tainted blade deep into his cold heart; his perception of the moment. "You think I have a grudge Osiris?" Scoffing. "Not until this very moment when by your own tongue you admitted to knowing and stand here doing nothing!" Venomous were those words spoken. It was then he threw the dagger, though not at the man. It's tip imbedded into the soft wood of the docks surface just before him. "That is hers, covered with blood. Be it hers or another, I can't say. But if it is hers, I swear by the hand of Odin, her blood will be on your hands!" Glaring at the hooded male. "Then yours will be on mine when I seek her revenge." Not a threat, a promise being made aloud to man and Gods alike. He would love to throttle the man before him, but there were more important matters to tend to first. "I'm going after her, and when I find her, I'll be sure to let her know of your concern!" With that he turned on heel and began to stride back to his nearby mount.

Radulfr had the aggression of a one man war-machine. Osiris understood why he was angry but in another sense the big man should know what he was doing wasn't helping the matter. Accusations began to fly at him before there was any sort of defense made vocal. Though, Osiris didn't budge as Ekaterina's dagger was tossed by his feet. “Once more you're blinded by your own anger.” His voice did not rise but again it carried. “You claim I am doing nothing. It proves to me you know nothing of what I am nor what I do. But, of course, you care not." Osiris knew the next words were going to stop the armor-clad goliath in his tracks. " I know not where she is, Radulfr. But, I might know what direction she is in." So much for him not doing anything, huh? Shoved that right back into the giant's mouth without so much as a word of animosity. He wasn't letting Radulfr wreck his link. “Since you are so inclined to murder me I suppose giving you such knowledge is irrelevant now, isn't it?” Osiris turned his attention back out at sea. It was then the ancient warrior grew quiet and began to concentrate upon the object he had bought for
Ekaterina once more.

The return of words would indeed stop the Viking in his tracks. Turning to glare back at the man. "My anger blinds me not, Osiris. It fuels me to do what I must do, to protect those I care about." Turning fully to face him as he continued. "No, I don't know what you are, or what you do. But I have lived through what you've brought upon us since you arrived." Throwing it right back at him. "She wouldn't be in the position she's in right now, if not for you." If he wanted to make him feel bad, he'd throw it right back out there at him. "The manner of beast that can burn down a forest, and leave it to look as if the fist of Odin’s might smash down upon the earth. This is what she faced, alone!" This pissed him off even more, because she left in the company of Randell and his two guards. "One man lays near death at the Inne, his body charred to near recognition. The thing that took her did that. It makes my guts churn to think what he's done, or is doing to her." How about putting it in a perspective the man might understand. But then again, as cold as he is outwardly, he could be so inside as well. "And just how is it you think you can find her, standing here looking out at the horizon?" He was Norse, and like Kat, he had no love or trust of magic or those who used it.

“Your very fuel would lead you to the mountains where the Barbarian King lies. It'd be there you'd be slaughtered and any hope that you have will be shattered completely." All the facts had pointed in such a direction, did it not? And, knowing any warrior that'd be the first place they'd go looking. In fact, it would have been Osiris's first choice if not been for recent evidence. “You cast the evil upon me as if I had brought it along. The very same evil that has been residing in the North unbeknownst to you. Do you think it'd lay dormant forever, Radulfr?" The big Viking could cast that blame all he wanted to. Even now Osiris's arctic tones were beyond soothed and tranquil. “While it is my fault that I care for her. Is it also mine for why she cares for me? If she meant nothing to me... do you think I'd still be here?" They were getting off topic. “You lack faith in the woman you consider your daughter?” Radulfr didn't want to get into a game of the minds with Osiris. “The more you attempt debate and argue with me the harder it is for me to locate her and her current condition.” A look over his shoulder toward the behemoth of a male. " If you recall she has a pendant around her neck. It tends to pulse with her life force. Being... what I am I can trace such artifacts. " Attempting to explain. " I can tell you she is still alive. But, how she is fairing beyond that is a bit difficult to decipher. " This was going to be tough for Osiris to do but he had to put his pride to the side for a moment. He made his calm approach toward the larger man. As he looked up an icy vein that trailed from the right eye and down along the jaw and neck was the only source from the shadow to be seen. " I know you don't like me. In fact, I'd even believe you down right hate me. But, I won't leave her. If I have to fight you tooth and toenail the entire way, Radulfr. I will make that woman happy one way or another. My heart races as much as yours does but if I let myself go to the degree that you'd have. Whatever enflamed the forest would be nothing in comparison. Just have faith in me until this is over with. Then, you can slit my throat and dance on my ashes." He made a pass by the larger man with a respectful pat of his gloved hand upon his shoulder. But, nothing more unless he was stopped. He had a gypsy to seek out.

He'd take a step forward and this time point a finger at him like he had the dagger moments prior. "I have all the faith in the world in her, when she faces something normal." He'd debate that to his last breath. As for the rest, he could find no argument nor fault when faced with hard cold facts. It did deflate the man’s ire though, the anger that was fueled by fear and love in combination. He was human, and a fault of any man that cared for a woman, to strike out at what was available, when nothing else was present for him to expend his energies upon. "You're right, I don't like you!" Openly he'd admit it, not like he's cloaked that feeling at all. "I hate nothing, Osiris. On that you're wrong. Like a father would any child, I'm just protective of her, although she is more than capable of protecting herself." If the man had children, he might understand that fact. Hearing that he could sense Kat still alive did give him a barest minimum of relief. "Knowing that she's alive is one thing, finding her is what we need. If you can do that Osiris, then my blessings I will give upon you and never a sharp word to be spoken again." He didn't have to like the man, and he'd not promise anything other. He'd listen more to what the man had to say, and made no move to retract nor become aggressive when Osiris placed his hand upon his shoulder briefly. "I am going with you when you go after her." It wasn't a request. A man who once commanded legions of men, was now using that same tone with a man who himself could perhaps take on a legion alone. Turning to watch as Osiris walked away, he'd glance back over the water and out to the dark horizon. Why Osiris would be looking in that direction when he was sure she was heading towards the Northern Territories. "Faith is like trust Osiris." Looking back towards the man. "It's not easily gained,
but can be easily lost."

Progression of his cold footsteps had stopped upon hearing Radulfr. While he felt hostility there wasn't any reason not to remain civil toward the experienced warrior. " We'll find her, " a vote of confidence on his part. " But, don't get all sappy on me now. Occasionally, I need that sharp tongue to keep me in line. " Osiris' tone softened and a nod followed by the order. " I'd expect no less. Save what anger you have for me to be used there. We'll need it. " Osiris knew not what command that veteran had but that experience was invaluable. He was just about to fully depart when he mentioned about trust and faith. " Then I know where we stand. I won't be expecting a knife in my back when we make our move, Radulfr. " Osiris then pulled his hood back to reveal to the man just what sort of shape he was in then. Perhaps, a visual trust from Osiris to the goliath. " Nor, should you be. We've a common goal, my friend. " And, just in case the big guy was curious. " I'm going to see the gypsy. Maybe she'll have more insight. I'd much rather rush in the dark with a lantern than I would a walking stick. " A respectful dip of his head and Osiris began to make his way once more.



"Then our pact is made." Nod of his head, though he was still quite riled. A tankard of mead and Lilly's gentle administrations, would see to the attention of that. "Finner went to inform Randell of the situation with Kat and his man." That was when he remembered that Lilly was left alone with the severely injured man. "Aie, a common goal." His tone was now more of a man in need of rest, even if his blood still surged. Then he spoke of the Gypsy and he'd scoff. "You place your trust in a crazy woman. And you say I'm blinded?" Slow shake of head. "I'll be at the Inn, I left Lilly there alone with Khel." When Osiris made his leave to seek out the Gypsy, he moved to collect his mount. Not another word when he swung up into the saddle. This time his pace was more a trot in motion. They had a long ride ahead of them and the horse had already been over taxed.

Indeed, a pact was made. The information about Finner and Randell was soaked into the encephalon. But, the quip about putting his faith in the gypsy had him shaking his head. Before long the Norse giant was on his way and Osiris began to siphon the atmosphere to where Nadja had got to. It took several moments to pinpoint the little Romanian but he managed to do so. In a short amount of time Osiris had made his venture out into the depth of the forest. Outside the city limits of Kiel and near the lakeside.

[Randell]

Randell Daviun looked down on the ruin that used to be one of his faithful bodyguards, and found himself oddly bereft of sympathy. The emotion lingered inside him, but distantly; he was detached at the moment, with only the analytical portion of his mind claiming dominance of the whole. Anyone else who saw Khel's broken body would undoubtedly see a scarred and dying man, but Randell glimpsed... potential.

Finner had been sent back to the Stumble Inn to retrieve Khel from the care of the innkeeper's slave, Lilly, who had doted on the poor man ever since he was brought her still smoldering. Perhaps it was her influence that kept the man alive through such horrid torture, but Randell had a different theory. The merchant had ordered his former bodyguard be taken down to the cellar, where he now lay in a plain, circular room with a stone slab at its center.

Khel rested upon the cool stone, looking oddly at peace for the moment, though expression was hard to derive from a face that was nearly melted. Muscle visibly showed, and the stark white of bone along the jaw and tip of the chin. He no longer had a nose to speak of, just hole, and the cage of his clenched teeth constantly hissed with the draw of breath - one of the few indicators that life still brewed inside the horrid shell of a man.

"Whatever flame did this to Khel, it marked him."

A robed man with a thin beard stood beside Randell, observing as several healers worked their talent over the former bodyguard, but none of their energies seemed to reknit flesh or soothe any of the wounds inflicted across his body. In fact, as one healer brushed her fingers over the raw meat of Khel's thigh, it seemed to almost smolder in resistance to the curative power.

"Are you simply voicing the apparent, Phortali, or do you have a point?" Randell's voice didn't raise above a whisper, yet there was a warning there. This was not a time to test his patience.

"No, Lord Spider... he has been marked by the fire that nearly took his life. I sense it in him still... a flame that burns, as if joined with his soul. It prevents the healers from restoring him completely, and yet it also seems to be keeping him alive as well. He's stuck... in this ravaged state, too damaged to live, yet kept alive by the force which once sought to kill him."

Phortali raised a hand, and whispered a few words of a spidery dialect that Randell recognized as an incantation. On what appeared to be a bare, dusty floor surrounding the stone slab, a faint blue light began to shine forth, etching a circle of illumination around Khel, the healers and himself. Their were runic markings within the circle, and the entire formation seemed to... pulse with energy.

At its appearance, the healers stopped their work, glancing at Randell who motioned them away, leaving only himself and Phortali inside the circle. "Yes," the mage went on, his eyes closed and a glowing hand outstretched toward a now writhing Khel. "It's strong..."

That caused Randell's brow to arch. "You mean if this... creature breathed flame on others, the result would be the same - this tortured existence, incapable of death?"

"No," Phortali replied, frowning. "No... this is a unique combination. I suspect Khel might've possessed a hint of the Gift, yet it was never sought, or perhaps realized. That innate power reacted to the fire... merged with it, and came alive within the boy. It's that which sustains him now..."

"Can it be used?"

The mage blinked, lowering his hand before turning on Randell. The merchant wore a calm expression, but his gray eyes were stones, boring into the mage's gaze without remorse or pity. Slowly, carefully, Phortali nodded. It looked as if he had to mull over the idea, but in the end, the mage seemed confident of his claim.

"Whatever latent talent the boy had, that fire bonded itself to it... and perhaps following the same means of training one would use to focus the Art, he could follow to harness this... curse." Phortali frowned, glancing at Khel at his scarred, twisted body. "But, I don't know if he'll stand, let alone be able to train in his current condition. The healers have no effect on the damage..."

Randell considered that problem for a moment, eyeing the young man's ravaged form. "You've worked with golem's before," the merchant began, stepping beside Khel, hands folded at the small of his back. "Would it be possible to replace his irreparable limbs with such material?"

That took Phortali back. At once he started shaking his head, then stopped, glancing at Khel again. His once disapproving frown became thoughtful, and with that look Randell knew the mage would do what he desired. Cost wasn't a concern of his - coin was always readily available. The proper tools were forever priceless commodities, and to defeat this Dracolich, the merchant would require special tools indeed.

And watching Phortali carefully, Randell saw the makings of another in his wide arsenal of potential. He was no ordinary mage, but a man once possessed of great power and position. However, it was his curiosity that eventually led to his loss of titles and standing. Phortali was someone that sought to achieve the impossible just because they could. And while like most wizards, he wished to further his knowledge of the Art, it was the challenges that truly drove him.

That made it easy to lure Phortali into his organization, and it was that same curiosity that might see a new weapon forged against the advances of the Dracolich and its foul minions.

"He has to be willing... otherwise it would be a useless venture. If he doesn't want to live, I say cut his throat now and end his suffering, because what I intend to do will take an unwavering resolve."

Randell only nodded, then turned toward Khel, leaning his face over the boy's own, inches apart. "Can you hear me, Khel?"

One eye fluttered open and locked on his own, the other seemed melted shut. With the barest of movements, Khel nodded.

"Tell me... what do you want more than anything else right now?"

As Randell stared into that single, dark eye, Khel's chest shuddered with a breath, and he seemed to struggle, fighting against the pain wracking his body. It wasn't for a long moment, but when a word came rushing past the cage of the scarred man's teeth, it was guttural and tense, but perfectly audible for both Randell and Phortali to hear.

"Re...venge..."

"There's your motivation, Phortali..." Randell replied as he rose and walked past the mage toward the door set into the far wall. "Now it's time for you to get me results... good day." And without another word, the merchant left, closing the door on the mage, and Khel's scarred, tortured visage. Dark days were ahead of them, and they could only grow darker still. Whatever sins he had to bear to bring back the light were of no consequence to the 'Spider'. Randell Daviun did what he must to see the greater good done, and it was with his black hands that he intended to usher in a new hope.

[Ekaterina]

The Barbarian King

It was perhaps well past dusk, night had already fallen upon the port that was southernmost upon the island. Taverns were wide awake with brawling, screams, and hollering of men as well as women at men. In the distant alley the cry of a lone woman could be heard as she took a last opportunity to cry out for help before the sounds of her not getting it began to echo forth briefly in groans that echoed well of her lack of being the looser woman of the taverns. Nonetheless, the port itself was rather deadlocked. For upon it was a well-armed group of men donned in leathers as well as miscellaneous pieces of fuller armor. Their weapons varied from war hammers and maces to oversized swords that were still filth-laden with blood and grime. The stench of them alone was of the sort that denoted they were not recently bathed. Yet the air of the seas was much stronger added with it the refuse and ill-begotten gains that the port waters had accumulated through the years since its creation. The port itself was built into a cove that wove between two dividing parts of a mountain that wove along the islands center and likably to a volcano as the chance usually happened, or somewhere deeper and more evil that seemed to lurk within its ruminating stone walls. Nonetheless the ship bearing the dracolich and hoped for Norse woman was just now coming into dock. It's wooden siding scuffing against mats and other similar items used to buffer ships that got a little too close to the dock itself. Men went about beginning to catch thrown ropes from above to form suitable anchors. The torches held by many illuminating the on goings as amongst the band of men were two that stood out from the rest. With famed ease.

It was one thing to think she was being taken to the Barbarians' Northern Kingdom, but when they instead encountered an anchored ship, this threw the Norse a bit off. Her captor was tight lipped, explaining nothing to her, regardless her bombardment of inquiries. Bad enough she was out to sea and bound in chains. No stranger to travels upon the vast waters, she also knew ships tended to sink, be it due to Pirating or storms that seemingly appeared out of nowhere and her bindings would see her to a watery grave if such happened. As well as unable to defend herself if their ship was over took. Yet, neither situation was faced, and before them loomed a port to which she was unfamiliar with. She did study the stars in their days of sailing; she did have some navigational skills though it wasn't due to being a sailor. The stars were often used in the way one uses a compass when traveling the lands. If she had a chance to escape, she wanted to make sure she'd be able to get back. For now she remained quiet and sullen as she waited to see what fate lay ahead when they reached the docks of the port being entered.

The sound of the plank being hefted and propped onto the banister of the ships side was heard and watched by many awaiting eyes as the men on the dock remained unusually silent and calm, almost ghostlike as they stood transfixed in their patience for the plank to be shoved over to land upon the dock in front of them. The hollow sound of wood impacting wood with the brevity of its solidness and weight thudding into the night air before gestures were swapped and men began boarding the ship with a hastened maneuver along the provided means to board the vessel. Men already upon it were tending to the matters of settling the sail for the night, securing ropes of the masts, and ensuring that every other proper thing that was their duty, was fulfilled before they would be given their leave to enjoy themselves within the taverns that they could now smell, and hear beyond the wind playing in the air with its' salty warmth. A good number of his men would remain upon the dock, guarding the entry onto that particular pier as well as lining along its length where crates and barrels awaited use or stowing that night. The bandit king finally placed his boot upon the plank as well. The slow gate of his provoking figure not causing any to have reason to argue in finding a reason to hasten his boarding, and to find something else to do whilst he was near for some odd reason. Leather amidst hides were wrapped about the top of his boots that would slam onto the deck as he stepped off of the plank itself.. His weight sending a strong vibration onto the boards now beneath his feet. A cloak of sable fur was worn around his shoulders, large enough to encompass the burl of his shoulders and secret his physique beneath its shadows whilst torches and lanterns aboard the ship sent wavering cadences of light upon muscles that protruded with obviousness beneath it. Leathers and more furs hung from a large belt at his waist, Jostled about and against his thighs as his dark eyes found her with a single glance along the ship’s deck, and he began his approach.

Some might find it strange that it took so many men to handle what looked to be a petite, yet fit, woman. Where the Dracolich and Aux had gone off to, she was unable to see as they disappeared within the milling bodies upon the docks just prior to the arrival of another. The Dracolichs' minions were a bit rough in their handling, even though she offered no resistance when they brought her forth from the hold. Occasionally she would resist against a painful hold or gruff push, which would gain them a glare from the Norse. Upon the deck she was held between the two undead, as they stood one on each side of the chained fem, with another directly behind. It was during her study of the area that she noted the male that boarded whilst others made their way ashore. She was still adorned in the hides and leathers of the night captured. Tunic and pants fashioned from the tough skin of a bear, the cape wrapped about her shoulders that of a bear hide with hair intact and hid beneath its bulk the full viewing of the frame it covered. Long flaxen mane was fashioned in the tiny braids of heritage, framing those defined chiseled features of youthful complexion. Icy shards of crystalline blue would fix upon the one who drew yet near. Having never seen the King before, he wasn't recognized. Although the actions and reactions of those about should have been indication enough. As he came closer, she noticed the inspecting way of his gaze. Perhaps it was Nordic pride, or ego, but she stood tall between her captors and those icy shards of blue fixed upon the eyes of the man who neared. Features were neutral in state, though there was definite defiance to be noted in her gaze.

There was an air of pride in the muck of his nature whilst he looked upon her. Hair diminutively fell afore his eyes as the winds disregarded his countenance and had a mockery of his hairs length that fell well beyond his chin. His head would merely careen his eyes around its length till the winds sent it away yet again. His eyes found nothing that it could reap upon beneath her furs. Yet her features seemed to suffice him easily enough as a challenging curl lifted upon his features, smugly residing upon his lips. He closed the distance between them. His attention shifting from her to the two guardians that stood nearby. Returning to her once more with an honoring nod... His voice caused the winds to stop suddenly as the heat from his muscled form dominated the air for further moments whilst he spoke with that deepened tunnel that led to his lungs.-"....you stand without fear between those two. Very odd...do you not find them beings to fear? Do they not cause you to question yourself if they are real and if this is a nightmare of some sort?"

She'd note the way he was dressed, and then his voice cut through the din of the area and sounds of the sea. Icy shards of blue continued to maintain their focus on his. "Fear? And what exactly am I to fear? Death?" Scoffing. "It's through death we find true life, within the halls of Valhalla." Responded in a cool, calm tone. "As for a nightmare? That will come to realization soon, when others come in search of me. It's then real fear will be known." Said with a confident air. One of her handlers, not liking her words, gave her an elbow to the ribs. A grunt to sound and dagger throwing glare to be cut into that one’s direction. "I shall see your throat slit personally one day." Stated to the offender, who only repeated his act with more gusto. This time it was accompanied by a fist to the face, which caused her head to snap to the side. Head lowered for a moment, and then rose as she looked forward once more. Hands, bound by chains at the wrist, would rise to permit two fingers to wipe the blood that trickled from the side of her mouth away. Icy shards to fix upon the man whom spoke to her. "So are you here to see my torture continues, or to send me to Odin?" Even with her mishandling she maintained that air of defiance and strength. She wasn't going out of her way to tempt her treatment, nor was she making idle threats. If she ever escaped, a few would feel her wrath, and it isn't just that of a woman they'd be confronted by.

A mere smirk arose in the lightness of humor he found in the "torture" that passed between guard and captive before him. He allowed a few breaths to pass between her lips and for her to calm down just so much before
He would speak again. A hand though was sent to the undead guards to beseech them to do away with the chains that were upon her, so the process of dealing with her could be hastened.-"...You speak with the likes of these as if you have dealt with them before...and succeeded. Are they so common in your land? I knew not their throats were so vital in wounding them...I'll have to keep that in mind.” this he spoke as he approached further. One of the guards was motioned to pause and hence it stood fairly still. His hand reached forth for the beings throat, passing the ward of magi that was withering the air about it till his hand slipped past the residue of odor; aura or spell that was upon it that caused a slight aberrance in the air that his eyes were looking upon.
His hand nonetheless reached the skeletal sinew of dead flesh and rotten muscles where an acrid stench twisted his nostrils about a twinge before he'd hold his breath. Fingers purged the decaying span of its throat in another moment burying through flesh entirely to cause such to fall away crumbling in that passing moment of a breath that it took him to clutch onto it. His strength surging through his forearm to be hidden beneath the bracer of steel studs that enamored the light with a reflective quality of gold and chromed silver. His hand further beyond ignited in a display of veins and muscles that grasped the beings throat in a near entirety until a crisp sound of bones snapping suddenly erupted and a rasping of sound began to come forth from the undeads' gaping maw of a mouth where teeth were lose and missing. Decayed and brittle in their yellowish brown glamour of rotten plaque. It's head began to shake from side to side fearfully and almost in a begging manner."...I do not want to see her brought to harm again. Do you understand?" The next moment, the king was assured that his words were understood before the wretched things throat was loosened from his grasp before he pulled it back to his hang at his side. The undead fittingly collapsed to the deck floor below where it began having problems with its neck being still properly attached and had to spend the next several minutes attempting to reattach it properly into place.

This man before her was mocking her? It was how she took his comments and question. "It’s a male." She'd generalize it as that alone, and it was meant as an insult in a sense also. Her comments of throat cutting were angered words spoken as a promise of seeing the wretched beast dead by her hand, not a literal statement. Yet, she wasn't about to go into a song and dance of explanation to this male that stood before her. The guard that hadn't assaulted her now moved to unlock the chains that bound her. Those that wrapped about her hands first released, and then the shackles that bound each ankle, all connected to the harness of chains which wrapped about her waist. She couldn't hide the relief felt when the weights of her binds were removed. Hands shifted to slowly rub the tender flesh of wrists, bruised and lacerated from the weight and roughness of the chains that held them. It also meant she was free to make any attempts, and a glance towards the cold dark waters was gazed upon for a moment. She could easily run and dive into the waters to make her escape. However, these thoughts were interrupted by the next action that took place. Focus was drawn from the dark surface of water to now rest upon the male who took the undead guard into his powerful grip. At first she was surprised, mayhap a bit shocked by what was witnessed, although that would be short-lived when she instead took a particular delight in watching the undead being writher and squirm beneath the mighty hold upon it. Such delight appeared within those icy shards of blue that watched with a morbid fascination, the way flesh was crushed, the gaping maw of the guard, and was that actual fear upon the creatures face and in its eyes? As much delight as she took in watching, it did not lessen her intent to see it destroyed completely by her hand; one day, she thought. However, what would transpire is the fact that her intent to make good her escape at that moment would not take place. It wasn't admiration for the strength of the man, though there would be a glint of respect. Head tilted slightly as she once more weighed and measured the leather and hide encased figure of maleness before her. "You know, the Dracolich isn't going to be pleased if you break his toys." Said with a hint of a smirk. "So just who are you to tempt his ire and the fate of his hand?"

The bandit king merely stood before her, a few feet perhaps off to her side where he had been before the guard who now knelt at his boots and was still seeking some way to affix itself. A task that was not watched as the kings’ dark eyes lifted to the blonde’s attentive tongue. A slight cant of his head as perhaps he caught an inkling of her thoughts of escape in moments prior. Something that might be possible if she wasn't stopped by one of the two guards within reach of her, or any of the additional men who were still moving about upon deck and would continue to do so till well beyond the time they themselves would take leave of it. His voice remained in a guttural rumble, slightly without care, yet also somewhat amused that he had gained just a little respect from her. Or perhaps, it was amusement from her prior jest about the male gender." And what do you know of a Dracolich? Is there one in the lands you have been taken from that you cower not before such creatures as you do?" He’d turn his back upon her then. A deminuizing chuckle emanating from the barrel of his chest beneath the fur enclosure that seemed of a similar hide of a beer as was her own, though his was much, much larger. "..Respond to my questions and I will consider responding to yours in turn. Until then...it is time we take our leave. If the denizens of this port find out who you are and get a look at your beauty...which alone is enough reason to give us trouble....there may be difficulties...leaving this port." Such said he headed for the plank that would descend to the dock beyond. An arm motioned for her to be brought along by the remaining two guards. He would then look from the throng of bandits waiting below, before returning his gaze to the woman as she was brought within reach."...I will give you two options for disembarking from this ship. The first is slung over my shoulder; the second is to be thrown to my men where I hope you will not mind their hands upon you in privy places before I can get you back.

Brows to arch slightly with his inquire. "I know enough to know he's a coward!" Sharp accusation. "And that he employs cowards." Her words were meant to be a direct insult to the Dracolich and those whom worked for him. Any further insults would fall mute when he spoke more. "Find out who I am?" Now that one did puzzle her. Why should they care who she was? What did this man really know about her? That had her icy gaze now fixed upon his back as he began to move away. The guard that stood behind her, now moved to stand at her side opposite the other. Each to take ahold of her upper arms and lead her to follow the male to where the plank would lead to the dock. Then the comment about leaving the port? They would be traveling elsewhere? To the Northern territories perhaps? So many questions were generated by the few words uttered in that baritone verbiage. Icy shards would once again take in her surroundings, the way those about them moved, how they shared eye contact or subtle motions of hands that would cause others to enact. It was then the male halted and so did her escorts to have her standing close. A blink as she glanced up at him when he gave her the two options of disembarking. "I have two capable feet to which I can use, and I am able to walk. I would prefer that over being manhandled, by you or them." Stated with a definite lift of her chin as she now focused upon the man before her.

A scrying lift of his brow noted her words, yet found not the answer to his question amongst what she said. A curl bespoke what he was about to do next. A gesture was made to the two guards who had her in their clutches. He himself hoisted himself up onto the plank so he would be standing good few more feet above her. An arm then ushered her towards the docks below him. There was of course, no room between the ship and the dock itself unless you wanted to chance being squashed between the boat and the docks sides with the coming and going of the waves that slowed along from the attention of the seas far beyond. -"You heard her...throw her overboard. Bois! Here she comes be sure you don't drop her fer me or you'll know what’ll be next...” His words came out devilishly mean, and loud. Commanding and provoking in the same duration of moments. Below, the men upon deck only glistened as their teeth became visible in muted grins. Many arms were raised into the air in hopes of being the ones to get a feel of her when the opportunity would arise. The two guards were given the signal by the king himself as he swooshed his arms from stern to dock with a careless manner as if there was about to be a fine show to begin and they must carry on with it. They did exactly as they were supposed to as well. Two against one easy enough odds to hoist her up and swing her over the rail head first, unless she had some reason or mean to thwart such

Throw her overboard? Did she just hear him right? Now don't think for one moment that it was going to happen without a fight. Resistance to be met as she began to push and shove to gain the freedom of their hold. The only weapons she had at her disposal, was herself, and she was no novice when it came to hand to hand contact. They'd not find their task an easy one to enact, when she resisted with elbows flying, followed by fists and well placed kicks. Her only disadvantage, was they being undead they felt not pain like a living male would. However, she was almost like a slippery eel in a sense, as they found it not easy to get a grasp upon her to hoist her up into the air. A battle would ensue as she worked her way free of their initial grasps, and the few attempts made after. The one on her left had lost a few more of its teeth during the encounter. The one on her right there was the definite sound of bones breaking when her elbow met his chest. Though with no need to intake breath, the action did little but cause it to step back briefly before engaging again. It was during this encounter that she managed to snag the dagger from the left ones belt. Now armed, she could do more damage, and such she would. Turning just as the one on her right went to reach for her, a slash of hand with momentum would sever its hand from wrist. A turn to then imbed the dagger into the rotted flesh of the right ones gullet and drawing across to rip it open and spill forth the rank, insect infested rot of intestines upon the ship’s deck. Now having a weapon, this would draw others into the fray. Soon there were four upon her, grabbing and holding her tight to wrestle the dagger from her hold. The two guards she fought had stumbled back as the others rushed forth to contain and gain a fashion of control. Still, she relented not, trying to weasel free of their grasp, only to fail. They carried her to the ships side and threw her writhering figure over it to the awaiting hands below. As soon as she felt any touch her, the fight was on again. Elbows, fists and feet all being used to fight back against her captors; knowing it was a futile act. However, she wasn't going down without a fight!

There was more fight in her than there was to be told of in stories and rumors that could be listened to by those who came from the Port of Kiel. Or those who had been hunted by her and their tales had reached the ears of others from prisoners to prisoner to tavern when one or the other became set free. The fighting nonetheless was watched. The kings hand being set to rest upon the sheath of his a blade at his belt that wasn't even partially pulled free. Instead he merely watched and allowed the men and undead upon the deck to get in their little bit of exercise and practice until the numbers would win out, as they normally did in many a battle. Her figurine to be watched with a hint of glee and amusement as she was allowed the advantage of flight for at least a few seconds before grasping paws of calloused and filth no doubt needing to be gone from hands began accumulating reasons why they shouldn't reach at all. He'd watch in the glamour of satisfaction, both of his men learning of how feisty a woman could be. As well as she in learning that she would lose count of how many men would get to touch her the fight within her would be forced to be contained. One hand after the other in the swarming crowd kept her above their heads. Some being kicked whilst others indeed were elbowed, sending a good many to the ground to become stumbling blocks as well as stools to use to get a better grasp of her until enough hands were upon one leg...and the other and so on till she was stretched out above their heads and further handling could be begun elsewhere. The king didn't seem to mind wholly as
her leathers would remain intact, for the most part, though one could not deny the sneaking of a hand into whereabouts that were unseen. Nonetheless, he waved her onwards with another careless antic of behavior. Though there was an esteem of pride in his eyes as he watched, and let her learn her lesson."...Move her along now...iz time to get on our way...toss her onto a horse and see if she'll be tied down...”


---- Continued --->

[Ekaterina]

Those she fought now were human, and she gained the satisfaction of hearing grunts, curses, and groans when she found purchase of face, shoulder, or any other body part to be reached. More satisfaction found when one would drop where they stood. It spurned her on more, as if just that fact alone fed her energy. Much like the legend of a berserker in a sense, only using body parts rather than weapons to deliver the blows. Though the numbers were against her, and soon they'd have her to where she could barely squirm within their grasps. It was then she felt those exploring hands and touches, her head to turn and shift to get a better view of the offender they were attached to. The list was growing within the depths of her mind, as to those who would feel her wrath when the day came to unleash it, for the day will come. Icy shards now glared at their commander, who seemed to take delight in watching all transpire. What little respect he gained was robbed at that moment, and he too would be added to that list of nameless faces. She found if she stopped resisting, the men seemed to lose interest in their prodding and probing, as they carried her to an awaiting mount. It was then she'd shift through their holds once more, till only a few had their grasp upon her, and they would roughly toss her belly down upon the back of the equine she was to be fastened too. Wrists were tied, and then ankles and these were all secured to the saddle upon which she laid. This infuriated the Norse even further, at being placed in such a position of discomfort. At least Aux showed mercy and fastened her to his form so she could ride in comfort before him, and she fought him just as hard as she did those here. If not for use of his magic, she might have defeated him too. Instead of shouting insults and threats, she befell to silence. She'd not give them a reason to amuse themselves more at her expense. Once she was fastened, she felt the hand of one as he slapped her rear and announced she was secured to the mount. Teeth gritted, muscles in her jaw did twitch, but this would remain unseen as features were hidden behind that veil of flaxen braids that now fell to cover them from view.

With such noise and fighting seeming to begin at the docks, attention was drawn outside from within the many taverns that populated the docks. Drunks came out with tankards still in their fists, sloshing onto the compressed dirt that made up the streets between buildings. The many of the patrons were pirates themselves, sell swords as well as veteran sailors who just couldn't sail anymore, but were quite good at wasting away their time in these taverns for one purpose or another. What seemed like a procession of some woman definitely got their attention as they gathered closer and closer. The streets soon becoming easily crowded with the populace to the point that it seemed all were having quite a large party outside, all conjoined into one huge one upon the streets that was becoming centered upon the woman being strapped upon the female steed. The barbarian king was already well known enough from the time he'd been spending on the island since his expedition into the mountains further inland. Praises and outcries were sent in his direction for his favor and pleas to be taken out to do more pillaging and piracy. He meanwhile joined her near the handful of horses that were about. He took the reins of his own, whilst a handful of men perhaps as large as he if not a few of their number even larger, took up the others. With the crowd as it was they bothered not mounting their rides, but instead had to push and part their way through the crowd that was half-sober enough to know why they were being pushed at all. The bandits upon the dock meanwhile divided up, some remained to deal with the mercantile affairs that the ship would be used for. Whilst the rest of their number pursued their leader, if not making to form a wall of their own to protect him and the new Norse.

She could feel the press of the growing crowd, the gawkers and jeerers alike. A few brave enough to get close enough to try and touch the bound woman, only to be thwarted by one of the very men whom had familiarized themselves moments before with their own hands of her lilth figure. Her head would turn to glance over those near, and eyes would meet with a few whom knew who she was. The look upon their faces spoke volumes, in the fact she was caught at all let alone hog tied upon a horses back. Their numbers were not enough to render aide to the Nordic woman, at least not at the present moment. The crowd being as it was, it wouldn't be hard to incite a riot. In a sense, it could have aided in their cause, but it could also hinder it just as well. She'd not gaze long upon those familiar, so not to single them out as being so. The brief moment of eye contact would be all that was needed to set things into motion. These were individuals whom had visited Kiel on more than one occasion, and of the sell swords, they had been paid well to enact in her name for one cause or another. She then felt her mount begin to move as they fought their way through the crowd, their outcries of attempting to gain the eye or ear of the King would give her the information she had been refused earlier in response to a question she asked. So the man she stood before in defiance was the Barbarian King himself. Head would turn as she tried to get a glimpse of the man. The rumors, stories, myths, and lore she heard about the man, in a sense she could see where the bases of all came from. As far as being a madman? She could agree and disagree all in the same sense, yet she had spent little time to make a full drawn conclusion on that matter. One thing was for certain, Randell was correct; this wasn't a man to be treated lightly or to assume the advantage of. That much was decided upon by what she witnessed so far this night. He asked her why she didn't fear the Dracolich, yet it seemed he didn't as well. As they continued the procession through the crowded street, the
further they moved the less they became, and soon only a few continued to try to run along with the group to gain favor of the king. Once the streets were cleared, all could now easily settle upon their mounts. This also gave her an opportune moment to take in her surroundings. One thing she'd continue to be alert about was what they passed, that which surrounded them, and the heavens when she got a change to glance up at them. Land and sky to be her compass.

The trek from the port through Skull Island was one that was not favorable to a stranger to these lands such as merchants, travelers, or even men seeking to join the bandit lords’ number. For the assemblage of the bandit king and his men took to a road that was hardly used at all by the so noted. It was passable by horses for only so much of the night. The men had taken up a pace of jogging through the jungle with lanterns instead of torches to light the way and ensure that the path in front of them was the one they knew like the backs of the hands that kept their blades sharp. There were still many territories upon the island that were still inhabited by the tribal cannibalists were to be passed through. If you were not properly armed to the teeth and well prepared to know when to be ambushed, you likely would not be heard from again. As it was, the bandit king was not the sort to be king of those who ate their enemy, and spoke not a word of common or felt the civility to learn it but rather eat you before such could be figured out. As it was, the cannibals were out and ready that night. The huge near riot like atmosphere that had begun at the port town down the mountainside had been watched. The torches and lights dancing in the streets had drawn quite a bit of attention from those hidden within the jungles farther inland. Hopes that perhaps the drunken would stumble out of the towns’ perimeters to become their next meal not an uncommon hope at all. As it was, a part of these tribesmen were on their way to do exactly that after donning their gear and making whatever preparations were called for. It was the back of the column of bandits that would be picked upon first. For the majority of the kings number had already passed, and those behind were normally not so easily noticed when missing. Unfortunately for the tribesmen, these weren't just any bandit men. These were the kings handpicked men who followed him about like an elite guard. Well trained, and well alert for such fanatics to jump out of them from the woods for the duration of the travel so far. The first tribesman went down via a thrown axe that whistled through the air to cause blood to splatter soundly to many an ear against already darkened bark. Many a throat opened up afterwards with war crys and cries of death as more began to fall to the earthen floor, and fall down the mountainside through brush and plant life alike.

As if she wasn't sporting enough bruises due to her battle with Aux, then the skirmishes to follow by the handling of the Dracolichs' minions that transported her thus far. Now the terrain was adding to their numbers as they passed low lying limbs that slapped and scraped exposed skin, the rough road ridden upon made the gait of the equine to which she was bound almost abrasive in nature as she was bounced upon that saddle. The ropes about her wrists and ankles would occasionally bite deep as she was jostled about. She tried to find a position of comfort by shifting her bent form over hardened leather, and she had thought she found just that, when something would happen to hinder it all together. From the depths of the forest the strangely dressed individuals would rush from. The frenzy of actions affected all along the line of travelers, including her mount. She could hear the screams and noticeable thuds of metal meeting bone and flesh. Her head to turn from side to side as she tried to view what was going on. Then she felt as if her hair had gotten snagged by something that was until she began to feel the part of being the rope in a game of tug of war. Someone from the forest had ran out and tried to snag her from the horses back. Being attached to the saddle was perhaps the only thing that foiled the individual’s actions when he grabbed her hair to pull her off. If she had been enraged by being put in this position back at the docks, she was more so now as it felt as if the individual was going to rip the hair from her head. "LET GO OF ME!" Anger spewed in those hissed words as she fought against her bindings that held her in place like a sack of potatoes tossed over the equines back. The horse would resist the pull, but would dance to the side. This would pull who ever held the reins in control of her mount in that game of tug of war.

The path had not been wide enough to accommodate two horses side by side with ease. Thus why there was more of a single file of he and his men as they traversed their way along the mountainside. For there was also known to be spots and places where booby-traps were put up, and some places they knew not at all. The task of exploring the entire island was being left to someone else. Was an obvious statement. The tug upon her hair and ropes would soon loosen as a stark realization of death came into the air by the tribesman who had been doing such to her. The man’s arms had been thwacked about at the length of his elbows by a rather large hammer that had finished its heavy swoosh through the air a second earlier. The fur clad king hefted up the weighty end of his weapon to let it bounce lovingly into the guise of his awaiting second hand as he watched his men dismember and decimate the assault upon their number with renown ease. The tribesmen were more so armed with feathered spears and javelins that were no use in such close quarters. Boned blades as well as a few that were made of steel that were no doubt taken from those they had killed in the past. They though had not the armor that his men had, nor the practiced skill and discipline let alone experience. A rustling was heard nearby before a tube barely caught his attention being lifted in his direction. A quick drop and roll kept him out of the darts path when it was blown out the next moment. Instead of hitting him, it pierced the hide of the equine she rode upon, sending it toppling onto its legs that would fold beneath it as it quickly grew fatigued and unable to stand beneath the poison. As he rose, he hastened into a lethal charge. His war hammer being drawn from behind him whilst muscles wryly pulled it through the air over his head with timing and a teaming descent that would send bone shattering into the smoosh of brains and teeth an instant later before the body itself would crumble to the ground beneath the inclusion of force. An adrenalin licked mindset looked around him for further moments. Holding to his spot in the darkness of the trees whilst his men were heard finishing off the rest of their dwindled number., His attentions seemingly remaining vigil upon the woman beyond, waiting for another to come for her, if one would turn out to be left.

Chaos swam around them, and it would almost be laughable at the thought that filtered through her head.... Sisters of chaos ... It was a title she and her adoptive sister liked to toss about in jest. Though this was far from an
amusing moment, even if a second of time was allowed to partake in that. It was then she felt the shift of the horse beneath her, the way it staggered and then began to lose its strength of legs. "You've got to be kidding me!" Was the thought that was spoken aloud. Battle rang out around her, she could smell the coppery taint of blood that was near. Yet that was the least of her worries at the moment, being crushed by the animal when it rolled was now her concern. Again she'd begin to struggle against her bindings, even more as the animal soon collapsed to the ground. Praying to Odin that it didn't roll and crush her head, although the other way would do quite some damage to her legs and even back as well. It would be the way the path was banked and the undergrowth that would spare her such a painful fate. The horse did roll, but not completely on its side, as its front shoulder met an upgrade of earth, and it's rear the thick base of a tree. Once her mind was able to grasp that she'd not be crushed to death, she again tried to work free her bindings. The way the horse laid, it made the hold of wrist to loosen slightly the way it was attached to the saddle, though it did make it more taunt on ankles holds. She'd quickly set to work on trying to take advantage of the looser hold. Focus was on the area around her, looking for anyone or anything that may come her way. Another of the natives did make an attempt, seeing the downed horse and woman made him think he had an easy prize to catch; horse and human meat that would make for a mighty stew. Thinking he would use the distraction of his fellow clansmen in their attack against the barbarians, he boldly rushed out with knife in hand. His intent was to first snag the woman, he'd return for the horse later.

It was a bad idea to use a weapon you were not skilled with. The blow dart was left alone in the plants at his feet. It would be even worse if he tried to use it, and knew not of the darts usage, and how to not touch the poison. The tribesman, dead and crushed at his feet seemed to have a knack for missile weapons for some reason. Upon his back was a feathered harness with a few javelins within it. As one of the last, and probably because he was sneaking, tribesmen approached the downed horse and prize upon it, the bandit king hoisted up one of the said javelins. A moment was taken to judge it's balance and distance before he would expel it from his position. His own figure stooping forward in the act as it was hurled through the oncoming man's chest with a splurge of blood and muscle expunging out the other end that pierced finally into an adjacent tree, one of the manner that were around the entire scene. A twist of his lips advised him that it would be good to begin to hold his breath till they moved on as that coppery after tone began to build more and more into the air. His men went about gathering themselves, and their dead which were noted to be a few in the dismal light that the skies provided them. Lanterns though were relit if not found shattered and useless. She meanwhile would be left tied, but the ropes would be cut away by his own hand. The one leading her arms the last to be cut so it could turn into a leash that would lead her to one of the other horses that would remedy a replacement."...come...we need to keep going.."

The one charging at her felled, and it didn't take long for her to realize by who's hand. Soon she felt the pressure of the ropes lessen. Those about her ankles cut free and given the ability now to walk. Lead like a dog on a leash behind him, he might be surprised to find she gave no resistance. "This time, let me ride normal ... " Trying to her best to keep up with the man’s powerful strides as she maneuvered about bodies and foliage alike. "... Please." The last word was like a punch in the gut for her to use. But to be left that vulnerable again, she'd use any means possible to see that didn't happen. Soon she'd be lead to the replacement horse, and she'd look to the King and hope for at least a touch of mercy on this point. It wasn't she was scared or feared another attack. The part of being vulnerable made her sick to her stomach. She wasn't a weak woman by any means, and there was little she feared. But to be a sacrificial lamb with no means of defense, they may as well cut her throat right there and then.

He'd be behind her the rest of the way amidst the darkness and illumination of lanterns whose light would reach them soon enough. He'd hoist her up onto the saddle with both hands finding the bone of her hips. They were not the sort it seemed who waited about for too long, for their number already began passing along the path once again with perhaps a little more haste in their step as the adrenalin from the fight was still alive within their blood. It would not take too much longer perhaps to reach their stronghold within the mountains. They knew well of their own traps and pitfalls that would await those who knew not at all of their placement where obvious paths would lead them into captivity or to their deaths. The stronghold itself was made of the very trees of the land nearby and that it was settled upon. Walls some forty feet in height had been constructed amongst the mountains pillar of boulders and steep rocky walls. A gateway was opened as soon as those bearing the lanterns had approached in the front of their party. A few signals no doubt had been exchanged with their use...though unseen by she who was riding on horseback behind them.-"We are safe now... or.. At least we are.... you I am not so sure about.."

The King at least gave her an ounce of pride back in allowing her to ride upon the horses back, rather than draped over its saddle. She remained silent and docile through the continuation of their trip, noting what could be viewed of the landscape, anything to be noted in the distance, and that heaven above. She was unsure how long they had ridden, or the distance traveled, but their apparent destination soon loomed ahead. The exterior of the structure would be noted as they neared, what could be visualized and wasn't hidden by shadows and darkness. Then through the gate they'd travel to the strongholds interior. A glance made when she heard the words imparted upon her. Many who knew her would have expected the dagger sharp tongue of hers to be put to use at that moment. Instead, the comment was met with silence. She was at a disadvantage, and this she knew. For now she'd bide her time being attentive to all that was about her. The structure, the amount of people, and any items of defense or offense within view. She'd be easily led to where ever it was she'd be taken to. Unless someone gave her a reason to react, she'd move without incident to the area of her imprisonment.