Hondscioh

Hondscioh lightly shook the shield he held close as he left the cave, he cursed under his fiery beard, before reverting. "Helm's hairy balls, if it is still bloody raining." and he spared a moment to look skyward, seeing its cloudy but no sign of rain, it made him give a sigh of relief, striding forward to river as he watched the two training sperewigends with the edge of his gaze, warily

Régnwald grunted, his armour matching it with a groan. Leaning forward, but not so much to leave the warmth of the spot he had settled on, he stirred the pot that hung from it's tripod above a weak fire. The flame, nestled in it's firepit, sent smoke in tendrils, snaking about the cauldron.

Werendor stepped outside, soon surprised by a couple of children who seemed to have followed him. He turns to them to scold them, with the few words he can muster in Rohirric and urge them to get back inside.

Régnwald walked along the edge of Stangard village, looking over...

...some Eorlings making adjustments to their weapons, one mending his jerkin, another whittling a fish from wood.

He passed an old shed, only to find Thorkel on the other side, kissing a young Stangard widow.

Régnwald watched a moment more than he otherwise might briefly transfixed, he turned away then continued on over to a field, where Hondscioh and Elfgast were practising sword-play.