The sun had just started to settle in the early evening of the early months and the sky was painted purple as the dark blue night sky started to overpower the pink sunset, and white diamonds started to appear in the dark canvas though the prized jewel was the round pale full moon, casting its glow down onto the hills of Dunland.
On the side of one of these hills was a torch, flickering orange and casting out both warmth and light to the large figure that carried it. His breath was heavy from clambering up the rocky goat track and his brown matted hair was clammy on his war-painted forehead, dark eyes peered out from underneath a bear head that was fashioned into a hood. It was not too much longer until he rested a large hand on a wooden fence, in dire need of repair in places though the entangling growths of weeds and ivy still gave it some shape.
Through the low gate he stooped and made his way up the flatter path, goats bleating around him at the barbaric figure that was trampling over their field. In the center of this field was a small round hut, the walls made of stone and the roof thatched into a cone, fire smoke pouring out of the hole in the top. She was in.
Pren stopped outside the hide covered entrance that made up the doorway and slowly lifted it to peer in and it was there she saw her. A tiny old woman, her back stooped over and her shoulders higher than her head. Her hair was layered grey and white, like the coat of a sheep that grazes in Starkmoor. Her skin was wrinkled and she looked so old that she looked as if she were a wight that came back to life, cursed restless. A wrap of fur and feathers was around her ancient shoulders, and in her hand a staff carved of rowan wood to aid her shuffling around the hut. She was one of the Gwyllion, perhaps close to what may be called a witch.
When her hair was dark and she was just a girl, she was one of the Derudh and her name was Arthes from the Hebog-Luth. She always had a strong connection to nature, and she became wiser and wiser and soon was able to communicate directly to Rhi Helvarch himself it was said! When she grew older, she took to the reclusive hills to pray to Rhi Helvarch, offering her spiritual services to those who needed it in dire times.
The large warrior who was pausing outside took in a deep breath and cast aside the door curtain and entered the hut, having to crouch slightly. A small smile came to his lips as he looked towards the Old Hag of a woman.
“Mamgu,” He greeted her and bowed his head slightly, though the old woman smiled and surprisingly quickly made her way over.
“My grandson! Cadwgan, what brings you here? Sit! Eat! You must be hungry!” Arthes hugged the warrior, though she only just passed his elbow in her old age.
Of course, the warrior did sit and eat, and he informed his father's mother on all that had passed in recent times, and how each of their surviving family were doing, and how life was down in the towns such as Galtrev or Lhan Tarren. Eventually they got onto the topic on why he was here, and while sipping from the nettle tea that his grandmother made him, Pren explained:
“The time of war is upon us, there is to be a great raid soon. The numbers grow by the day, mamgu, and it will be a bloody battle that will win us back the lands of our people. That is why I came to you. I ask of you to speak to the other Gwyllion, and all of you speak to Rhi Helvarch and ask him for aid. In any way. Whether it be more courage into the hearts of those that support him, or he himself comes and fights our enemies with us.”
Arthes looked at her grandson from behind blurry eyes, and a sad smile came to her lips.
“You are just like your grandfather, Cadwgan. You will take his axe, and let it be used in the hands of a warrior once again. He would have liked it that way. I will see what I can do, bach, and it sounds like you have a busy time ahead of you, ‘Warlord’,” she gave him a near toothless grin, “Now go and prepare, but promise me you will visit me again, when the fight is over so I know my boy is safe.”
With another smile and a small hug, the warrior left the hut of the Old Hag of the Rocks, who soon followed through with her promise. The time was edging ever closer, soon his feet will be on the soil of his ancestors once more.
