In the Shadows of Magick

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Nisi-Ha was a little confused by Thorn's statements, but before she could say anything, Thorn was gone, running away in quite a display of velocity. "Then again, he just openly flirted with the captain..." Looking entertained as usual, she sighed a little and waved at the retreating Thorn. Surely that kind of speed would be of interest to the great Brai' ari?

Nisi-Ha then turned towards Fiske and said,

"Knuteson, I visit family first. After that, we meet outside your inn? We then plan as we approach the watchtower."

It felt reasonable to Nisi-Ha. Even if she had never stayed the night at the inn, she'd passed it by enough times to know its location. More than a few times, her instructors during her youth had stayed there after training her, too. Whatever stratagems they came up with would surely benefit the group as a whole.

After getting Fiske's answer, Nisi-Ha would salute Signe and nod at Johan. Next, she would as quietly as ever walk away, heading for the family pelt shop.
 
Fiske smiled and shrugged at Signe's remark.

"Unless Johann and and I decide to have a sudden tumble in the hay, I think we're good on that front."

As far as he knew there were no hard rules for such an engagement but he didn't really see any risks of violating the request either, Nisi and Signe were like family to him more than anything else.With that said he was slightly startled by Thorn's suddenness, and his wink at the captain, unsure of how to read it...

"Well...anyway Nisi, we probably shouldn't, things are gonna be busy today and I don't want father to try to rope me into anything before we head out. I'm gonna follow Johann and try to get situated alright?"
 

The mood of the group seemed to have lightened with the little chatter that they had shared before leaving and it felt like a weight lifting slowly from Signe's chest. Things had been tense, and likely still would be until they had gotten used to each other, but that was entirely normal when one brought together such different people. They were not all going to get along straight out of the gate, nor could it be expected that they would. But a certain willingness to get along, that was a good sign at least. She responded with laughter to the assertions that there were no likely clandestine meetings between members of the Guard in the future, having not really thought that it was a potential problem. The bonus to their jokes was that it had given them pause to think about where they all stood with one another. Mindfulness of one another would likely help to ease the formation of a cohesive group.

"As my home is not far from the castle, I'll likely pass by most of you on my way to the tower" Signe said casually, beginning to move toward the door as well. The others were all leaving or had begun to hurry away "It likely won't take me much time to gather what few things I'd like to bring with me and I'll probably pass by many of you on my way to the tower..." She didn't finish the thought, leaving the implication of an invitation to walk back with her open, should any of them choose to accept it. There was no yes or no needed if she didn't actually ask, but they had been welcomed, more or less.

With that, Signe strode out of the throne room and quickly made her way to the actual entrance hall, which was sensibly only a short distance from the throne room. She peered around, checking for any suspicious activity in the vicinity or oddities in the surroundings, before opening the final door and exiting the castle at last. The fresh air that swept against her face was a welcome change from the warmth of the interior, especially with so many of them present in the relatively close quarters of the strategy room. The sharp bite of salt in the air made her miss home already before they had even begun their journey. She would not, for a time at least, be able to listen to the crash of the waves against the cliffs and the reflection of the moon hung low on the stormy northern waters.

To clear her thoughts away from looming homesickness, Signe turned her attention to an inventory of all the things that she would need to bring from her own home. It would be fastest if she mapped out where she would find each time and collect them without needing to check around. She was lost to her own thoughts almost at once, walking to her door on habit and muscle memory alone while she made the final assessments of her list. From there, she grabbed a small pouch to fill. Her sword was already hanging at her side, which left surprisingly few things she thought that she would need that would not be provided by House Taivo.

With every intention of meeting the others along the way if at all possible, Signe finished collecting her own things with as much haste as she could manage before flitting out the door with her pouch and sword. Not all of the residences of the other members were along the route, but this was the main path and she hoped that she would see them. As a result, she kept an intentionally dilatory pace and clear mind so she could study her surroundings rather than be absorbed by her own musings. ​
 
A good distance away from the castle was the hill where Beow's compound stood, three wood-and-turf buildings surrounded by fields of vegetable and hay. The first building was the large, yurt-shaped wooden structure where the shaman did his business; the other two, hidden right behind the hill's peak, were longhouses, one for his family and one for his slaves. The whole area was enclosed by a shoulder-high fence of stone and dirt, the wooden gate often left unguarded -- Thorn pushed the gate open with little difficulty, then headed straight for his father's office.

The office's interior was fairly bright, its roof being practically open, it had so many smoke holes -- at the center was a large stone basin, ash and wood and bits of cracked bone filling it almost to the brim: the fire-pit. At the far end of the room was another stone structure, this time a box lined with rune-carvings stained the brown of dried-blood, the symbols all congealing to form a spout which opened to a silver pitcher. About the whole chamber were various wooden shelves and tables, upon which a vivid mess of various accoutrements, of staves and cups and pots and vials and bouquets and idols and whatnot, either stood, lied, or hanged. On a low stool right next to the entrance, Thorn's father sat, carving runes into a couple of birch sticks.

"Hola, you're early. Did you shut the gate?" Beow was a middle-aged man, back slightly bent, face slightly wrinkled, and beard slightly overgrown -- yet he still looked strong, still looked well-kept, and the flashes of sharpness in his eyes still matched the pins and rings of gold and silver that adorned his beard and fingers. He wore a fairly scruffy overtunic, though much brighter and more decorated than Thorn's suit, with a never-complimentary pair of trousers, and, being for most of his business indoors, no shoes nor cloak nor cap, the various smells of his bloody and groggy business always hanging about his extremities. His voice was gruff, but never mean, and his composure was always somewhat innocent, even when indulging in ceremony.

Thorn shook his head. "Son, the cattle'll get out!" And Beow stood halfway up, peeked his head out the doorway, and shouted to an idle slave: "Ho, boy! Shut the gate for my bastard here, will ya? Hehe --" He turned back to his son, his brow raised.

"They're sending us off."

Beow's look fell, and when he sat back down his hands didn't return to his work, instead folding into his chest. "Where?"

"To the wild -- to look for someone. You guessed right, last night: Smit -- er, Samit. I'll need your blessing: we leave in an hour."

Beow huffed, then stood up, slowly, his weight all carried by Thorn's shoulder, as if his every joint were creaking. "Well -- ah, a slowed morning -- business is -- ah, there's a crack! -- business is business and all that. I'm just glad you found the time to come here -- the blessing of the gods must always be prime."

"Oh, this was the first place I went to." Thorn picked up his father's carver and sticks, then motioned to a nearby pot.

"Eh, son, not yet -- I'm sure none else'll be here til' noon." Thorn dropped them back on the stool, then turned back to his father, as if to help him on his walk -- Beow refused, taking himself, with increasing strength, to the altar. "But ah, that's good, that's good -- the blessing of the gods must always be prime. What sort of sacrifice will you be paying for?"

Now Thorn raised a brow -- his father smiled slyly. "Well, what did you think? I'll be paying for your everything, now that you have work outside the family? Son, your money's your own now -- no allowance, only salary!" Beow chuckled.

Thorn's hands fell to his knife. "Well, you were the one to send me out for such business."

"Aye, aye, I jest -- but if you'd asked your lord about this, I mightn't need to dock anything from what you get, here." Beow pulled out an especially large knife from one of his shelves, its hilt shaped like the head of a horse, and its steel lettered with runes -- Sigel-Ac-Haegl-Ac-Rad-Ac, Sun-Oak-Hail-Oak-Ride-Oak -- and continued on to the killing stone, his gait now tall yet solemn. "Anyways, how much would you want to lose?"

Thorn's hands swung to his hips. "Perhaps I'll just talk to the king?"

Beow again huffed. "Son, you may be considered a friend of the king, but matters of money are matters of money -- no such thing as working it out, here. I'd rather not your first day be a path to debt, or your first pay be a penny short -- although the king, so I've heard, is devout, so perhaps you should have a chance. Oh, I forgot to change the pitcher."

"I'll get it." Thorn first ran to one of the shelves, grabbing a freshly cleaned silver pitcher and a bouquet of flowers and wild mushrooms, then continued on to the killing table, replacing the current, now fly-ridden one, then passing on the scents to his father. "Hey, where's Asmund?"

"Oh, your brothers are busy with farm-work, watching over the slaves and whatnot -- they'll be back soon. Ah, slowed morning -- none else have come, since dawn's blood. You know, I'd thought I was gonna have a meeting with Bjork, or at least Bjarkarsdottir." At the mention of Bjarkarsdottir, Thorn's ears twitched. "But of course, those two are always late."

"What was the meeting about?"

"Oh, the usual, Thorn -- blessings for the season's practice and all that, plus a bit of advice on a certain dog-bitten patience of theirs -- you've heard the story." Beow leaned in to Thorn, his eyes squinting, his lips mockingly pouted. "Don't you worry, son, your Marfa's all right -- and you should know, since, well, last night."

Thorn grumbled, blushing. "I told you, I was out last night looking for one of the sheep, the one Sven lost. We weren't out at the pool -- I got wet because I slipped, right as I lost the sheep by the valley --"

"Oh, you keep saying that -- it's not a man's work to tend the sheep, my son!" Beow burst into laughter, his proud gaze still on his son, while Thorn, half-embarrassed and yet half-amused, continued to bow and blush. When Beow had finished, he continued, his tone now stricter, heavier. "Anyway, here we should go. Fetch us a horse -- middle-aged, roan. I'll start the chanting."
 
Her chest inflated with the lungful of air, just as she wrapped the cloth tightly around her ribs. They smarted at the strain, drawing a grimace to the blonde warrior's scarred visage, a permanent scowl that stared back at her in the mirror she sat before. The light that streamed in from the window flickered with the fluttering curtains, casting in and out of existence the ugly cross that rendered her so monstrous.

Not that it mattered. It impaired not her ability to swing a sword, to wield a spear, to hold a shield wall. She saw little point in dolling herself up, in braiding or combing her hair - Hallbjorn had it cut brutally short, usually by herself with a knife - when anyone clever enough could use its length against you. Jewelry only made unnecessary noise. If a monstrous, scarred snarl could give her opponent some pause, all the better.

She left her spartan room on top of the tavern, sword sheathed, spear and shield in hand, and exited with a polite greeting to the landlady downstairs. Boots crunched on gravel and ice, the wintry air of Yndheim cutting through the dull haze that had settled in her head with the indolence that came with ordered bed rest. A bar stool to the chest would do that to you. It felt good to be out and about again, even if accidentally leaning forward too much on one step invited protest from her barely healed ribs. They were going to heal anyway, and she had been off-duty for far too long. Restlessness had left her practicing in the backyard of the tavern, and that invited the annoyance of spectators; she treasured her privacy more so than fearing their judgement.

Courtesies exchanged and polite smiles offered, Hallbjorn somehow ended up with a fist-sized hunk of warm bread with a dab of fresh butter that she nibbled on as she walked. She did not know where exactly to find other members of the guard aside from knocking on their front door, but she figured that as long as she wandered right, she would stumble upon someone.

"Signe."

She jogged to catch up with the woman, ignoring the dull pain that throbbed in her chest as she closed the distance.

"I was hoping that you were not planning on leaving me behind," she said, inclining her head towards her Captain's kit.
 

The sounds of footsteps behind Signe as she began down the path did not at first raise her suspicions, though as they drew closer with the same determined pace, she turned her head to look at the source. She could not hide her surprise at the person she found herself facing but it was not an unwelcome meeting and her expression relaxed when she realized who it was. Hallbjorn was standing there within arm's reach of Signe, looking as resolute as ever. Hallbjorn's words were to the point but Signe thought she heard a hint of a pout to them, the displeasure at the possibility of being left behind for such a mission. Having respect for the other woman, Signe's expression was warm when she replied.

"I would not say that the intention was to leave you behind. Rather, I was told that you were not yet fully healed from the beating your ribs sustained not so long ago and wanted you to remain where you could recuperate."

She cast an appraising glance over the woman, suspicious at the faintest trace of discomfort in her actions. Not only was it dangerous for one who was not yet recovered to rejoin the group and potentially incur more injury to themselves or others as a result, there was the simple fact that Signe did not wish to see any of those under her command suffering. She was not so cruel as to expect any warrior to suffer in the line of duty unless it was truly necessary to ask them to do so.

Having slowed her walk to all but a full pause when Hallbjorn approached her, Signe began again to step forward and inclined her head to Hallbjorn to indicate that she should continue as well. Her eyes passed over the homes nearby, most of them sturdy and with a certain degree of elegance. Her previous pangs of homesickness were replaced with the comfortable feeling of familiarity in her surroundings and a measure of pride knowing that she was among those that let these people sleep easy in their beds at night.

To have a home so near the castle as Signe's was, that was considered something of an honor. It was afforded to her when she was being considered for the Captain of the Guard. Most of the homes nearby were held by nobles, ex-guardsmen of high rank, and others who were deemed pillars of the town and trustworthy overall. Without much in the way of family, Signe had had little reason to refuse such a generous offer, though the idea of benefiting from her position had made her uncomfortable at the time. She had been persuaded further by Mymon, who offered her counsel in the matter and reminded her that living so near the king afforded her ease and speed should he need her aid.​
 
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Thorn led a roan horse, weary-eyed yet still walking strong, out of the stable attached to the slaves' longhouse towards the watering trough just outside his father's office. There, as the beast drank calmly from the water, he began to sprinkle the beast's head, neck, and flanks with water, while mouthing the words to his father's chanting:

"We are the least among our brethren, the youngest among the houses of the Father --
a family of shepherds, a family of slaves.
The hands of my fathers made a musical instrument, and the fingers of my sons struck psalteries.
And who shall tell the Father? The Father himself shall hear.
Heivald shall send his son, and Sinnon shall send her daughter --
and Veithi and Virvaxi, they have taken us from the ship, they have anointed us with Holy Oils.
Our brethren were comely and tall, but the Father took not pleasure in them.
I went forth to meet the son of Mmemis, and he cursed me by the darkness.
But I drew his father's sword, and cut off his head; and I took away the shadow that blinded the eyes of Yndheim."

Thorn led the horse through the threshhold, the rays of light that shot through the curtain and into the darkened chamber once again stinging Beow's eyes -- but still, he did not flinch. Thorn's footsteps, as he continued leading the beast round the firepit to his father, followed perfectly the chant's rhythm. When he reached his father's side, he handed the reigns to his father; Beow took hold of the reigns with his left hand, then drew his long knife with his right.

"Blessed be the Mouth of the World, the Aesir from the Os, the House of Heivald and Sinnon --
Blessed be the Father of the Gods, who teacheth my hands to battle, and my fingers to fight.
Blessed be the Mother of the Gods, who is my mercy and my refuge, who is my help and my deliverer.
Blessed be their Son and Daughter: the defender Virvaxi, in whom I have hoped, and the enchanter Veithi, who have subdued my people under me.
Now speak to me, Mouth of the World; Answer me, Aesir from the Os --
What is man, that thou art made known unto him? or the son of man, that thou makest account of him?
Man is like unto vanity, and his cities shall pass into shadow.
Bow the heavens, Lord Heivald, and come down; touch the mountains, Lady Sinnon, and they shall smoke.
Flash forth lightning, Prince Virvaxi, and thou shall scatter them; send out thine arrows, Queen Veithi, and thou shalt trouble them.
Send out your hands from above; rescue me, and deliver me from many waters, from the hand of the sons of the Stranger --
whose mouth hath spoken vanity, and their right hand is the right hand of unrighteousness.
I will sing a new song unto you; upon a psaltery of ten strings will I sing praises to you;
who givest salvation unto kings; who redeemest his servants from the evil sword.
Deliver me, and rescue me from the hand of the sons of the Stranger --
whose mouth has spoken vanity, and their right hand is the right hand of unrighteousness.
Whose sons are like new plants, strongly planted in their youth; their daughters decked out, adorned after the similitude of a temple.
Their garners, brimming over with all manner of store.
Their sheep fruitful with young, abounding in their gateways; their aurochs fat.
There is not breach of wall, nor passage, neither any crying in their streets.
They have called the people blessed whose lot this is; but blessed is that people upon whom the Father takes pleasure."

Thorn struggled as he carried the large oil jar to the firepit -- it was almost half his height! But the real struggle came when he had to tilt it over his shoulder, eventually turn it upside down, all while walking around the pit -- the pot's load never seemed to lighten and, much to the woe of both Thorn and his brothers, his father never had the mind to replace it with a handled container, however many times he and his brothers had broken its kind before. This time, though, there was no accident, and the ritual continued smoothly, Beow with his next verse, Thorn with his passage to a censer.

"Have mercy upon me, O Father, according to thy great mercy; and according to the multitude of thy tender mercies blot out my transgression.
Wash me thoroughly from mine iniquity, and cleanse me from my sin.
For I acknowledge my transgression, and my sin is ever before me.
Against thee only have I sinned, and done this evil in thy sight; that thou mightest be justified in thy words, and overcome when thou art judged.
For behold, I was conceived in iniquities, and in sins did my mother bear me.
For behold, thou hast loved truth; the hidden and secret things of thy wisdom hast thou revealed to me.
Thou shalt sprinkle me with hyssop, and I shall be cleansed; thou shalt wash me, and I shall be made whiter than snow.
Thou shalt make me to hear joy and gladness; the bones that are humbled shall rejoice.
Turn away thy face from my sins, and blot out all mine iniquities.
Create in me a clean heart, O Father, and renew a right spirit within me.
Cast me not away from Thy presence, and take not thy holy spirit from me.
Restore unto me the joy of thy salvation, and establish me with thy sovereign spirit.
I will teach transgressors thy ways, and the ungodly shall turn again to thee.
Deliver me from bloodguiltiness, O Father, thou god of my salvation; my tongue shall rejoice in thy righteousness.
O Father, thou shalt open my lips, and my mouth shall shew forth thy praise.
For hadst thou desired sacrifice, I would have given it; thou delightest not in whole burnt offerings."

And here, with the conflagration lit, and with Thorn now again standing by his father's side, holding down the head of
the horse over the blood altar, he no longer mouthed the words, but instead joined loudly in:

"A sacrifice to God is a contrite spirit; a contrite and humbled heart God will not despise.
Do good, O Father, in thy good pleasure unto this hill, and let the walls of this city be builded.
Then shalt thou be pleased with the sacrifice of righteousness, oblation and whole burnt offerings.
Then shall they offer calves upon Thine altar."

And his father handed him the long knife, and he slit open the throat of the horse, and the horse fell down gasping, bleeding. Then he pulled the horse onto the altar and pushed it to its side, while his father took his bouquet of herbs and sprinkled the three of them with blood. And even as the horse continued to breathe, Thorn, with the fire of the conflagration now burning in his eyes, immediately proceeded with the ritual, sticking the long knife into the beast's breast, then drawing it down to the beast's genitalia.

"Virvaxi, you are my shepherd; with you, I shall not want.
In a place of green pasture, there hath he made me dwell; he hath nurtured me beside the water of rest.
He hath converted my soul; he hath led me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.
Yea, though I walk in the midst of Shadow, and journey through the valley of Death --
I will fear no evil: thou art with me. Thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me.
Thou hast prepared a table before me, in the presence of them that trouble me.
Thou hast anointed my head with oil, and like the best wine doth thy cup inebriate me.
And thy mercy shall pursue me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the House of thy Father unto length of days."


"I know it's not a wothy suspicion, considering the history of the household with the throne, but -- I suppose I should leave all options open? But with one of our members being sponsored --"

Beow interrupted. "Did you remember the weeping of the Lady Taivo?"

The shadow over Thorn's face grew. "I did -- but women can act, can't they?" Then he looked up, back to his father's eyes -- drops of blood were still drying on his forehead and cheek. "Has anything like this happened before?"

"Ah, I can't remember -- but I do remember more tales of ghastly beasts and magicks befouling the wilds than I can count, much of which the Taivos bore the brunt!" Beow threw the piece of liver his hands were holding into the fire, sparks flashing from the sudden addition of fuel. The smoke that was now filling the house grew thicker, although with the height of the roof and smokeholes above not so thick as to make the air unbreathable. "Whose blessing was supposedly given to this, er, Nisi-Ha, the name?"

"Yes." Thorn's hand quickly jumped into the flame, grabbed a piece of charred leg, then pulled back out, dropping the leg on a wet cloth nearby -- not even a speck of ash on his fingers, he was so swift. "Mmemis."

"Hmm....well." Another piece of liver into the flame. "Mmemis is both friend and foe, so you should know, and it seems to me he petitioned first to the Father, these organs show me nothing. That said, caution is always good, I suppose -- but the point is, there will probably be more things to worry about out there, than mere human betrayal.
For he is much closer to his children than his thralls --" He exhaled deeply, before trying to pat the shank with a bare hand -- but he quickly withdrew, it was still sizzling. "-- if they truly are a problem, might as well use them against themselves first, and all that."

"But it won't just be her that will be coming from them. I hear the household is giving us supplies -- horses, food, possibly even shields and spearheads. What if they mess with those, first? Or should I showcase my mistrust, bringing my own things -- we have enough, do we not?"

"Ah, well that one should be clear enough --" Beow beamed. "-- should be easy to see such things just as you're setting off from the city. But say, don't you think that's a little too much fooling around in thought, on your part?"

Thorn sighed. "Maybe -- part of me's saying all of these worries are just 'cause I'm nervous about this whole thing, and, well, I don't really know what to think....an expedition, and on my first day!"

"Aye, aye, that makes more sense, but it's not that bad a guess." This time, he threw in a kidney, pulling a fair-sized stone from out the leading tube first. "Ah, look, a stone -- should be good luck. Fancy to keep it?"

"Sure." Thorn received the stone, wiping it clean with the same rag he was using to wipe his father's knife clean.

"Too bad it's not a bezoar, eh? Would help you if you get poisoned --" Beow laughed. "-- anyway, point is, it could be real, it could be false, it could be your worries, it could be your thoughts. Nevertheless, you came here first, and you should be cautious -- just, well, not too cautious til' you get there. Whose shrine is it for, anyway?"

"Oh, that, I don't know." Thorn stored the stone in his wallet, then continued cleaning his father's knife, every so often patting the shank to see if it has cooled. "I don't think she ever told us....or maybe Heivald...." And a long moment of silence passed, Thorn still cleaning the knife, Beow still tallying innards.

Beow broke the silence. "Ah, no matter. Just keep everything in mind -- everything and nothing. Now, you best be getting ready -- how long ago did you say it was an hour? -- and don't forget the shank."
 
"I'll be on my way."
Without further ado, Johan set out for his family's secluded home at the outskirts of the city. The cold air outside the castle was welcome to Johan, much more preferable than the warm and stifling air that predominated closed rooms. During the way he distracted himself with thoughts about daily matters until he eventually reached his destination.

The house stood surrounded by a few trees and a small pond, somewhat remote from the other houses. His parents told him that they bought this house to avoid any unwanted attention, which may as well include any attention outside the ones of potential job offerers'. Granted, he never objected to the notion.

From a pouch on his belt he took a key to open the front door with.
"Hello," he called.
"Hey, Johan. Already finished?", his sister, Sonja answered, looking up from a book she had been reading.
"Not really. Part of the guard is going on a mission, I need to grab some things before I head off."
Johan moved through the house, collected his belongings and changed his clothing to a more appropriate, protective attire while Sonja put her book aside and stood up.
"Ah. Lord Taivo? I heard he's been missing."
"Yeah. Seems like him in some veterans were visiting a shrine and never returned… The king is worried, so we're setting out."
Few minutes later he had finished changing, left the house and fetched Sjór, his horse, from the small stable they had. He seemed happy enough, after all Sonja had been taking care of the horses while he was on duty, just like Johan cared for them when Sonja was.
As he did not want to carry all of the provisions on his own, he started loading Sjór with them, though it was not much, mainly a shield, some regular clothing and a bit of food and drink.

In the meantime Sonja had come outside and waited while he went in and out and in and out again. Finally, he was finished and stood outside.
"I'd love to come with you, but I know the king wouldn't want that. Besides, someone's got to stay at home. Still, try not to get killed, alright?" Sonja remarked.
"Don't worry, I won't."
Sonja gave him a questioning look, but Johan simply chuckled and hugged her.
"Take care," he told her.
"Take care."

They let go shortly after, and Johan mounted his horse to head towards House Taivo. She remained outside for some time, looking after him, lost in thoughts. Minutes later, she concluded her thoughts with a sigh and went inside, closing the door after herself.
 
Walking at a brisk pace, Nisi-Ha would slink through the streets and arrive at the family pelt shop, not worried for time. As ever, the unassuming exterior with a simple "Fine pelts and products" sign felt welcoming, and with a few knocks, opened the door. Inside, the unique smell of the workshop drifted from the back, while at the front, one of her brothers was cleaning the counter and another was setting up some pelt samples.

A shared greeting happened and she would head to the back, finding her father in his seemingly perennial pose, working hard on the prize she brought earlier. Even if she was not much of a conversationalist in general, it was only reasonable to talk at length about the coming excursion. Typically, she tried not to involve her family too much in House Taivo business - sharing some news or progress but letting them stick to the worries unique to the pelt shop. This time, however, she felt it appropriate.

Information was exchanged, blessings were wished upon, assurances were offered, promises were made, a small meal was eaten and farewells were said. Nisi-Ha, confident that House Taivo would provide anything she required, decided only to bring her oversized coat and spear. She silently exited, softly closing the door behind her, and set off to the gathering point. She'd find the rest of the Guard soon enough...

"Lord Taivo, we are coming for you. The Guard will not fail."
 
Missing the newcomer and steadily marching behind Johann for a block as stated, Knuteson quickly slipped off through an alley, and took a deep breath.

I suppose we signed up for this, shouldn't be too upset about anything happening out here...

The young man shook his head. Saying his his goodbyes to his father seemed meaningless, he wasn't the most approving of the decision to join the guard. His father would always shout to him that it was a quick way into an early grave and sometimes the sentiment got to him. Given the severity of the situation, it was understandable that it was one of these days and Fiske took some time to himself before they set out. He wondered if the lost members of house Tavio had been deserving of their troubles, albeit troubles they may have brought on themselves by setting up well outside of the safety of the village. Fears overtook the young man for a moment, only to be squashed under his vows and determination as he began making his way back out to the House Leyst orphanage...A young child, no more than ten years sat outside, a grimace on his face.

"You're late...what did they call you about Fish boy?!"

Chuckling Fiske gave a mocking salute to the young man, knowing that he was more worried than truly upset.

"My apologies Ivar, but...I've got some business to attend to. Some of the Tavio housemen were lost and we were ordered to round them up."

The young boy gave a distressed look as he realized what that meant...

"So you're leaving town...? W-when will you be back?!"

With a shrug Knuteson, rustled the boy's hair, getting an annoyed grunt from the kid.

"I'm not sure, but I'll try to bring something back...can you tell Siri that I want to reschedule with her for when I get back?"

"Do it yourself!"

Ivar stuck his tongue out and rushed inside, leaving Fiske looking somewhat defeated. He would if he didn't know Siri were busy, and that he couldn't wait on her. Quietly marching onto House Tavio to collect his supplies, Fiske began humming to himself, trying to bury his doubts and worries until he regrouped with his colleagues.
 
As a member of the Guard, Hallbjorn would have been granted much more comfortable lodgings if she so desired, but she had refused any offers to move her from the room that she rented permanently above the tavern, even if it had been converted from an attic. There was a roughness to it that she liked, that gave it an incredibly homely feel. Besides, it had all that she needed. Food and drink downstairs, a cot to sleep in, a washing basin and a tub if she so desired. Why would she require more than a single room? Better remain used to spartan necessity than grow comfortable in excess; that was something Hallbjorn held to, and it showed in her threadbare clothes that had been patched multiple times - by herself, nonetheless - and if not for her name and her face one would have thought her a vagrant mercenary than a member of the Guard.

While Signe appeared much more comfortable in this district, the opposite held true for Hallbjorn, who looked ill at ease, to say the very least. She stuck out like in a manner unlike a sore thumb, but just an incongruency against a consistent backdrop. "I am well enough to perform my duties. At least to march, if not to fight." She knew herself well enough - better than anyone else, frankly - and as long as she wasn't holding a shield wall or kicking down any doors within the next few days she would be fine. Even then, it wasn't anything that would kill her or put her to bed. Just an inconvenience, and she wouldn't be running more than brief sprints for a time. If she had to fight, she had to fight.

"What are we to make of provisions? I had not had the time to prepare. I was hoping to draw on someone else's stores first, and then pay them back after. I have my weapons and the rest of my kit - whatever I need - with me."
 


With the urgency of the task at hand and the fair favored winds at their back, the group found that the supplies provided by House Taivo were bountiful and were forced the deny some of the provisions with the concern that there would be too much for their small band to carry through the dangerous mountains. The generosity and concern voiced by those who arrived to supply the group was so abundant that it became evident that, more than merely being the head of the house, Samit Taivo was also a man well-loved by everyone in it. On behalf of the group, Siri thanked them profusely for their seemingly endless stream of items that they had prepared to give the group while the others packed away what they could take in saddle bags and packs.

The long trip to the mountains passed through fields whose colors were rapidly changing to reflect the brilliant hues that signaled the harvest time. There were fortunately none among their number who relied on farming for the livelihood of their family, else the question of whether one would need to be left behind to take care of the harvest might have been raised. Instead, the group cut a relentless pace across the land on the backs of several sturdy steeds. They rested only as much as was absolutely essential and made as fast as possible to the beginning of the mountain chain.

The land leading to the fierce peaks became more and more unwelcoming as they were approached. The grasses were no longer tall and proud stalks but rather sparse covering over the ground and the rest of the plant life had all but vanished. The weather had also taken a steep downward turn and on one of the breaks, the group had taken some warm clothing from the provisions given to them by House Taivo. The chill of the air caused the strands of hair whipping over Siri's face to sting as they slapped her skin.

It was not much longer after they extracted the various gloves, hats, and cloaks that they arrived at what would truly be called the base of the mountains. The ground beneath their feet was icy and hard, seeming to blend seamlessly into the imposing peaks that loomed overhead. The grey sky did little to ease the solemn mood of the group as they surveyed the land around them with obviously dubious expressions.

Cracking a weak smile, Siri indicated the trail that led up and into the mountains themselves. It would become a treacherously thin path quickly on and it had been advised by House Taivo that they leave their horses at this point. They had, in fact, assured her with breezy gestures that the horses would find their way back if they set them back home from this point. She swung her leg over her own horse's back and dismounted.

"At least it isn't snowing here. I guess that this is where the hard part starts, eh?"
​
 
Nisi-Ha was, truth be told, a little relieved that they'd finally reached this point. In spite of whatever bad news or omens that could be interpreted as coming thanks to their arrival, Nisi-Ha rode horses only out of necessity and thoroughly disliked the experience. Following Signe's example, she hopped off and landed on the snow without making a sound. Still heavily garbed with the provisions the House had so graciously offered, Nisi-Ha looked around, trying to remember as much as she could from her previous expeditions...

Jogging her memory had some measure of success. She did remember, now looking around, just where the path began and how it would slowly change. With a nod and smile towards the captain, she took a deep breath, clasped her weapon tightly, offered a silent prayer, and turned towards the group.

"Fellows Guards. The road becomes steep and narrow soon. Exercise caution."

Last time she had been around, there were no incidents... Under these circumstances, with the Lord of House Taivo having disappeared, however, vigilance should be kept. She hadn't personally seen any but some members of the House insisted that some kind of creature could be found at times on the way, even if they never agreed on just what said creatures looked like...
"As we ascend, look for cat-sized, muscular gray creatures moving on walls. Maybe they show, maybe they don't."
 
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"Surely we should take at least one horse with us -- we cannot fight effective and carry enough things to survive at the same time! The horse my father recommended me should be quite dependable."

He leapt off his riding horse, one of the gifts from House Taivo, and patted the back of his pack horse. The pack horse carried most of his personal effects, namely his main-arms, a set of spare clothes, and the remains of his earlier sacrifice, of which by now remained only the bones and a half-pot of blood, he made sure to make offering every night they stopped; but also the rest of the gifts of House Taivo, such as cord, some bowls, and an ember-pot.

The ember-pot was the next thing he reached for -- peeking in, he noticed that the sparks were dying, so he loaded it with some tinder and a few small sticks of wood -- and afterwards, his offerings. After a whispered enchantment, he took the blood and stirred it wet with the two bones, then began sprinkling the ground and their horses with it.

"But before everything, a final offering -- O Father, O Mother, protect us!"
 
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Sliding off his horse with some discomfort, Fiske stared off into the white peaks, looking a little annoyed as he collected his provisions from his horse. Accustomed to the creature comforts of their township, he saw little merit in trekking half a day into the wilderness to pray. Not that he saw much merit in praying at all, but it was a small miracle to him that nothing like this had happened before given the apparent dangers of the area, such that even plant life had abandoned the area.

"We've still got a long way to go huh..."

He thought back to stories he had heard in the past of men tussling with monsters in the mountains, and marsh dens and how such beasts could take groups of men and crush them under heel...only to hear Nisi-ha's description of cat sized beasts, raising an eyebrow. It sounded more plausible to him than those stories ever did, but the thought was somehow disappointing all the same. He shook the thoughts away, and began wondering what

"We should stick close to one another then. Such beasts sound most dangerous in numbers, should they pose a threat to us."

Still, House Taavio knew of their presence, yet either they or something else overtook an experienced company. That was worrying enough for the young man without warranting further speculation, nervously thumbing the head of his axe behind his back to calm himself down.
 
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