Yrmenlaf

''An ambush?'' the word escaped Langhund's mouth.

Darkness fell in the winter forest. Mist lying beyond the small band of Eorlings, among the trees low. Régnwald slowed the company to a halt. He instructed, "We shall camp here in the woods for the night. Let a fire be built and a guard posted." As the order was sealed with a firm nod, he dismounted his horse and his feet found the ground, leaving a hard song of clinking battered war-nets as he paced onward. Régnwald finally took off his helmet, and he would be at least equally fast to shed the iron-welded gauntlets he was wearing.

The snow was falling in frightening masses from the starless sky. Régnwald furrowed his brow as he looked back the way they had come earlier, his fingers subconsciously working the collar of the heavy leather cloak with the cape of wolf-fur over his shoulders, tightening it around his neck. It was cold, and the wind was further picking up. It was no storm yet, but it would soon become one. No weather to make for the narrow pathway to the hills, least of all by night.

THE PAST...

''A mighty man in byrnie are you, of proven bravery, bold in battle. Into my war-band will you come, to serve as warrior and counsel wise words?''

Warrior: Aye!

Aeschere charged the first orc with an insane fury. He bashed his face with his shield, knocking him out of his way. He then clashed his sword with the other orc, breaking his sword in half and slashing his flesh. He swings and bashes as the orcs throw themselves against him, only to be hewn aside with missing limbs and gushing blood.

Faerhild charged against one of the orcs, bashing him with her shield, to block him from seeing her incoming sword that went to study his black guts.

The company of warriors was lead deeper within the mountains, through a small ravine. By the path that Faerhild unfailingly followed ran a small stream. Soon though the road ahead would become steep, requiring to climb up the frozen now formations of the rocks. It's been a good six hours of hiking and climbing up the mountain until the company made it to the top of the mountain. No sun would shine and the sky was grey, it should be noon soon. As you peek around the last of the trees a wide plateau is revealed in front of you.

A winding path laid ahead of the band of Eorlings, following the route to a frozen now little stream. One could not see much of its final destination but it would take them up hill and toward the mountain. Recently fallen snow has made passage even more difficult, their steps more unsure, as unstable and treacherous terrain awaits hiding under a piles of pure white snow. Trails or tracks were also covered under the snow.