Spirits of the Earth

She could taste the bitter chill in the air. It stood for more than one thing. The cold of Connlaoth, and the words she must speak to eager faces. Torri Clarth stood on the raised wooden dias in the middle of the courtyard. Rabbit pelt was strewn over her shoulders, and her red hair flooded down over it. Her smile was grim, and she was apprehensive of how the group would take the news. Not 'her group', never hers. They were their own people, they did not follow her, only looked to her for guidance and to be the shoulders that bare the weight of dire tidings. Dark clouds seemed to be brewing lately over the Matron's Hallow. Some would say they were always there, and that most were blind to see them. Torri knew better. These were different clouds, deeper.

   She sucked on her teeth, feeling the gap between the front ones with her tongue. Her cheeks were a rosy red to match her hair, and her eyes darted between the figures that were gathering around her. She knew these faces. Every one of them. Their bodies were wrapped in thick cloaks, hands scrambling to pull the furs close. She understood. And she understood the expression on their features. They mirrored her own. Snow began to fall in light drifts, the flakes caught in the wind and dancing to the ground in graceful swirls. Tonight would be cold. Her friends, no, her family would huddle close by the crackling fires in the hall, talking of brighter things and lighter times.

"Brothers and sisters," She said, raising her voice. Briefly her hair fluttered into her eyes, but she brushed it away with a gloved hand. Inside these tall walls with their crumbling mortar she could keep them safe, out there they were fodder for the world. "I have grave news."

"Last night I received a raven barring news from one of our ally's strongholds." She began, and out from her cloak she stole a roll of paper tied tightly with a piece of twine. She carefully held it between her hands as if it would break between her fingers like dust. "Three months ago, Flema and Orbin set out with a mage, a child no more than seven, wanted by the Mordecai, turned away from her family. We knew connections on the Serendipity side of the border, people that would take her and raise her as her own."

The crowd turned into a muttering ramble, and she half expected they already could see what came next. She steeled herself. "Orbin is dead, along with the mage. Felma sent this letter out to us. She says they were ambushed on the road by a small group of Mordecai. She won't be returning to us, not yet. She is wary that they are still on her tail. The last thing we need is them finding us. Pray to whatever gods you hold for her safety if you wish, and for the souls of our dead."

Jon swallowed hard at a lump in the back of his throat. The Crow moved stiffly beside him at the news, but that was all he did. Not a word. Not a grunt. Only a slight shift of his weight on his boots. Jon's heart was pounding in his ears as soon as Torri began speaking. Her bright smile was gone from her face, and he didn't like the look of it when it was missing. He knew Orbin, in a sense. Everyone knew everyone at Home. He was a short stout man with a blond ragged beard on his face and braids through his long hair. The man had been a Ranger, like Jon himself. And one that had been with the Free Folk for many a year. He was a modest sort, but people liked to goad him into telling his stories in the hall. Jon remembered some of them. To hear that he was dead was a dunk into ice water. And that girl. That mage. Scarcely older than his own baby brother. Dead. It left a sour taste in his mouth.

The rest of the meeting went on with news from the roads by scouting parties. Most knew of it already. Information that was useful wasn't kept from the Free Folk. Bandits ransacking trading caravans, soldiers passing uncomfortably close to Home. Whenever he heard the latter, his stomach would clench. Imaging magic could keep them safe was still a hard notion to believe, even after a while. Jon was born and raised in Connlaoth, it took some time not to flinch at the barest mention of magic on people's tongues. But the more he learned, and the more mages he met he was beginning to think that the Mordecai were the ones to be afraid of.

It was as it were. Like other moments like this, Trest remained off and away from the main crowd, appearing just a shadow against the wall on the outskirts of their gathering. His eyes remained ever vigilant while he lightly played his mandolin and sang a sweet song about scandals and women of the night. Normally his song was enough to gain a look from a nearby guard, who simply shook their head before moving away, thinking nothing more to scout the area anywhere near him. Damn drunks. They always littered the streets at such an hour.
Smirking as the guard took to the other way, he perked his ear up and caught the last half of Torri's news, and when the group was to disband, he placed the instrument away and peered over his shoulder. Scouting the area once again, his eyes growing narrow and hawk like, he moved away from the wall and over towards Torri.
Folding his arms against his chest, he lightly bumped his shoulder against hers, and in nonchalance, spoke to her as he stood at her side.
"So I hear you need some scouts," Trest began, eyes upon the crowd as he spoke, a finger scratching lightly beneath his nose. "I.. might have some disposable resources, for a price."
Though Torri probably knew Trest well enough, and although he was a shrewd business man and asked for money, he never really collected. At least not from groups like the FreeFolk. He admired what they stood for, having stumbled upon their identity quite on accident- though the fool was eager to pour out all fo the details.
Naturally, he hadn't gone to the authorities and looked more into this establishment to see if he couldn't gain any profit from it, however, what it gained him was not entirely money, but an ally, and some other folks looking to earn quick cash.  Trest only took the most fun jobs, after all.

"So how have you been?" he finally looked towards the woman, smirking as he adjusted the fold of his arms.


~*~*~*~*~

While Trest was about, harassing Torri as he usually did, Jinai remained within the crowd, watching in silence. This was how it always was. There were risks with every job when you offered to help the mages. Connlaoth was always this way, ad it was... pathetic in her view. Perhaps her brother had the right idea, either way... she had found a new family, a new home amongst this organization that appeared nothing more than a whisper on the streets. She shuffled uneasily, beginning to feel this was just the beginning of some long, winding road. But she kept silent, and peered curiously over towards the man beside The Crow. The Crow was always stiff to begin with, but Jon.. she had never seen his face before.

"You look new, or are at least someone I've never seen here before. The name's Jinai." Then she looked Jon over with a hand on her hip. "You a scout for Torri or somethin'?"

   She felt the rumbling of the Bear inside her, with all her fiercesome fury. Torri wanted revenge, yes, for Orbin, for the girl. But those wishes she kept secret; away, far away. They weren't befitting; the thoughts of bodies strayed around her, in pools of their own blood. It only led to more death - something that would find them soon enough, whether it be in the form of the Mordecai or their own kind, it ended the same.

   Right now all she could do was wait and prepare. And pray.

   The crowds dispersed, and she could do with a cup of water; her throat dry and itchy. Torri stood for a moment on the edge of the wooden dias, her red hair being blown by the wind. If she had a prettier face, the sight would have been alluring, but that was not her torch to bare. The Connlaothian woman's skin was weathered and tough. She breathed in and out, watching the cloud of air rise above her. The cold chilling her chest.

   She didn't hear Trest approach, the crunching of the snowy ground left her ears alone, so when the bump to the shoulder came, her heart leapt though it did not show on her face. It never would. Torri's face broke into a smile, showing of the gap in her teeth. But the mirth didn't reach her eyes. It had been a while since she'd seen the man, and her wonders would slip into thinking that he was dead on some side of the road. Where no one cared.

   "Trest." She said, and pulled him into a hug whether he wanted it or not. Torri stepped back, her hands firmly on the man's arms, and her eyes staring straight to his scruffy face.

   "I see you still think the baby stubble will get you women." She said, her voice playful. "Scouts are one thing, what we need are ones that don't die."

   What she wouldn't give for some immortality to pass around.

   She let go of him, and motioned for him to follow her as she made her way to one of the water barrels stationed around the courtyard. Torri dipped the ladle in, and took a deep swig, relishing the cool relief that washed down her throat.

   "I've been." She said, if he heard the news on the road then all the assumptions he would make would be true, more or less. They were in a bad place. And if things got worse...

   "With all that's been going on, I thought you did something stupid and got yerself killed."




   "So, big news huh?" Jon said to the Crow. The man's dark eyes wandered his way, and he thought he was going to say something - most like it was his imagination - when his gaze was drawn to another person. Jon scrunched up his expression, disappointment being a sore stick in the backside. The Crow sauntered off, leaving him.

   With a woman.

   Jon's eyes went wide, and his brain churned to help him understand the fact that she was speaking to him. To him! She was a looker, with that blonde hair and womanly figure. Jon's cheeks reddened, and his tongue felt numb.

   She asked for his name. Who he was.

   Don't mess up don't mess up don't mess up.

   "I'm name, er, my name... My name is Jon." He squeaked out, sounding like a girl. His blushed crept to his ears, and turned them a cherry red. Jon rubbed at the back of his neck, embarrassed.

   "Jinai." He tested the waters with her name. "I-I've been h-here a few months. I'm a new Ranger, just initiated." He said, and unable to look at Jinai, he stared down at his feet.

   "I think I've heard of you." He said, but it was nothing specific.

Trest rubbed at his 'wanna-be' beard.
"Hey, hey, hey, that's a low blow, Torri. And here I came to you as friends!" he joked. But he nodded at her last statement,a nd joined her for a drink from the ladle. The water was refreshing indeed. And as they talked, his blue eyes glanced around the area.

"Seems you've got a lot of recruits, or rather, a lot of people willing to listen. It's a shame though what's going on, but what are we going to do?" He gave a shrug. "It's a hard, silent battle, that's for sure, but with the way Connlaoth has been looking..." he made a face. "You'd almost have to choose a new Grand Duke in order for anything to be getting done. And even then, you'd have to deal with the two faced dukes that would support them." he gave a roll of his eyes, then swished the ladle inside the water before speaking again.

"I've got a pair of twin mages from Orchy. They've been silent for a while, unmarked. BUt they might be interested in meeting with you. Now they work for me, and it was during our business transactions that I came to realize their plight and made some.... suggestions. I told the pair that I know a friend who knows a friend who knows a friend that might be a willing, listening ear on their desire to help the cause. They lost a sister, and the one boy, his wife, to the mordecai. From what I heard, they were hunted down no better than dogs." He frowned and glanced down at the barrel of water, and at his reflection moving and pooling and disfiguring in the water.

"It's a shame what times we live in," he said with a sigh, but then at her last remark of being dead, he simply laughed. "Just assume I was on a short break. Work has kept me... elsewhere. I can't conduct everything I do simply inside Connlaoth. I get bored here." he said, cracking his knuckles as he stretched out his arms, then peered over at the crowd, his eyes idly tracing the people, and their shadows. You always had to look to the shadows. The devil was in the detail, and you didn't want to miss spying a spy, assassin, or worse.





Jinai smirked when Jon spoke up. She didn't miss the blush nor stuttering, nor the sudden raise in pitch of his voice. He must be young.
"Jon, huh?" she repeated, testing his name out as well while she shifted her weight from one hip to the other. She found saynig one's name helped her commit it to memory. She tilted her head to one side, some blonde hair spilling off from her shoulder as she studded him with a contemplative rub to her chin.
"Ranger, huh? I dabble into that, and a little bit of other things as well," she said with a grin. "Whatever Torri needs, I do it. Stealth operations are my specialty. I'm... pretty good at finding out information of all kinds. YOu'll find people are easy to speak to you if you've got a lose tongue and an open mind." Her grin grew at that.
"But since you're knew to this, I won't scare you away with all of the details." and she put a hand out for him to shake. "Well, it was nice meeting you. Perhaps we'll end up working together sometime?"
Though she doubted it. After all, she preferred the more dangerous jobs- and to do those alone.

   "What we have are greenhorns." She said, when he commented on the thriving populous of Home. There had been a rush of young, not even away from their mother's skirts for long, girls and boys in the recent months, and a couple of older ones who had only seen the fields of a farm. They had lost their home in one way or another. Like all the rest. Do doubt with the passing of time, if darker skies continued to brew, she would see more fresh faces. However, they couldn't sustain the majority of rural Connlaoth. There would be a time she would have to turn people away, and make choices on who stays. She never wanted Home to be like that.

   "There has to be a better way than what we have, I keep hoping for that. For a time where places like this are not needed." She said, she wasn't one to like politics but she knew enough. Torri glanced around the courtyard, watching the stragglers.  "Look where it's gotten us. Too much power in one place, I say. One voice drowns out all the others."

   "Mages?" Her eyebrows perked up, and she stared at Trest. And unmarked. "We're always a home for mages if they need refuge. They are welcomed to have a safe place. But what help I can give is already stretched. We don't have the power to make waves, Trest." Or maybe they did, and she didn't know how to use it.



She didn't question him. She didn't say 'oh your name can't be Jon. You're a girl.' None of that fell from her lips. Her pretty lips - no, stop thinking about that. But when she stared at him, with a look that she was sizing him up, his heart lurched. Was she about to call his bluff? Despite the fact that it wasn't?

No.

She grinned and he found himself grinning too, elated. "Oh wow!" He said, "You're really cool... Um I mean..." He fumbled and tried on a serious expression. Gotta be suave. "Oh yeah, that's good and all. Baris says I'm great with the sword, could probably even hold my own against the Crow!" That was a lie. "And I can shoot a moving rabbit from a hundred feet away!" Another lie.

Maybe he should just stop.

"Well, the twins have some connections, but not sure if they're the sort you'd be willing to confide in. I know you have a few helpers that would sneak into any situation possible and associate with any they must, regardless if you approve..." and his eyes drifted towards Jinai and Jon as he scratched underneath his chin. "Not sayin' the twins are necessarily this way. What I am saying is they're not afraid to get their hands dirty and might be able to offer a place for hunted mages to stay. It's not much, I'm sure, but it's better than nothing."


Jinai smirked as Jon went on.
"Rabbit hunting is a lot different than shooting a man. How many men have you killed?  There's a lot of rats crawling in the cities of Connloath, so instead of hunting after rabbits, you might want to refocus."

   Torri looked him over and followed the gaze his eyes were leading. For a moment her attention fixated on the two girls, Jinai and Jon- which was not her real name, obvious, but Torri new better than to ask - then she turned back to Trest and his stubble he called a beard. She gave him a curt nod, a serious look stayed in her eyes.

   "We need all the help we can get." She said.

   "M-m-men?" Jon stuttered out, disappointed that she did not find him impressive. His face paled, even the mere thought of blooding his own hands was too much for him. His stomach roiled, and he swallowed back hard. His sword and arrows were virgin; having never tasted the blood of a foe other than a furry little animal. He wasn't sure if he should be proud of that, or ashamed. A cold breeze blew around them, and he shuddered under his clothing. Or was that from something else?

   "No..." He said, "None."  He never thought he would have to.

   "Torri!" 

   The urgency in which the voice called forth grabbed her; taking her soul in a hold. Something was wrong. Stepping with fast feet through the gates was Helen - just Helen - with her fur cloak draped around her shoulders. She was a thick woman, curvy and round faced, but she had some of the best eyes and ears in Home. Torri hastened her own feet towards her, heart in her throat.
                           
   "We have trouble." She said, getting straight to the point. "Mordecai."

   Breathe in. Breathe out.

   "How long do we have?" Torri asked, dreading the answer.

   "Not long." She said, and gestured towards the walls of Home with a sweeping arm. "Fifteen minutes, if we're lucky and their powers don't reach us."

   She had to keep breathing, the cold ached in her chest. She didn't bother to ask how many, even one or two could be their undoing. And she assumed the worst. Home was guarded yes, but by people like Helen, and kids like Jon. The scout went on to detail a little further; they were making their way down the old dirty path to the castle. The Free Folk didn't use it, lest it appear to be used. The soldiers no doubt saw the opportunity; the towers rising to the sky and thought to rest behind the surrounding walls until the brewing storm passed.

   "Spread the word to the people outside the gates. Get them inside. Now." Torri said, and took no more time; there was precious little to waste. She was dreading it; the magic hiding them all from prying eyes would shudder, and break, revealing everything. Everyone. Swords would clash, and death would come unbidden. Either for them, or Home. Or both.

   Dark things were rising, she knew, she just didn't expect it to be today.

   "Trest, you better get out of here if you don't want to get caught in the fray." She said.

Jinai frowned at the announcement, but remained cool in place. She'd wait for Torri's orders when her eyes caught sight of Trest.

Trest knew how harmful a mordecai getting into this place could be, and he glanced towards one of the exits.
"Say... what if there was a distraction? You know, some sort of person that could trick the mordecai into making chase after him than to pursue any closer to this place?"

"And have you dead on the side of the road?" She said, "I thought my mind was away from wandering to those ideas."

"I appreciate the thought, Trest. But this is not going to take a simple distraction. These are trained soldiers. Mordecai. If they'll chase after anyone, it would be because they thought you were a mage. And that is a death sentence, my friend. No, you will do no such thing." She continued on, her eyes not leaving Trest's face. Off in the distance of the gate she could hear Helen's voice raise, and the sounds of ramble begin to hum. They were listening, believing - It could mean a loss if they didn't, and many at Home had already lost so much. And Torri was damned they were going to lose more. Not today. Never today.

"We will find a way to deal with this. We have a couple hundred here, I won't be alone." But there among them were also women and children; the children hadn't been taught to fight, and neither would Torri allow it. The women on the other hand were just as good as the men, but some were parents - as were the men. This was one of the tough decisions she dreaded. Who would fight. They needed everyone able, no matter the cost.

Free Folk were begining to drain into the gate, and with them whatever belongings they could carry. Ruck sacks full of food, children carrying stuffed toys roughed with weather and travel. Some even packed up their fur tents and carried the material on their backs. These were her charges, Torri thought. Many saw her as they walked in, standing there in her fur and red hair. A stark contrast against the falling snow. 

"Anyone not willing to fight, get inside the castle." She said, and gestured back towards the walls with a wave of her arm. A good portion of the Folk swarmed past, and what was left was perhaps a dozen unarmed men and women, and a kid about Jon's age.

"All right," She said, she would not judge these people willing to give up their lives for Home. They were brave souls, without a doubt. They were fires burning bright in darkness. And she would give it all to prevent them from being snuffed out. Baris, a large bald man with a thick mustache came up behind her pulling a wooden cart with him, supplied with weapons. Her ears caught the sound of the wheels squeaking, due for a new greasing, and the heavy thumps of Baris' feet against the freezing ground. A smile grew on Torri's face, wide but mirthless.

"You heard." She said.

"I heard."  Baris nodded, "word doesn't have to travel far to reach my ears. Or anyone else. Jon told me, came running in all out of breath and I could barely get a proper word out of him. There's others coming, too."

She only nodded, she would let the relief she felt wash so eager over her face, her actions, her words. But she could not deny to herself that her heart was pounding fierce against her chest.

"We wouldn't leave you alone, Torri. We're all in this together." He said, and Torri knew he meant those words. Baris didn't say anything he didn't mean, that was a interesting quirk about the man. Often she went to him for advice, or when she needed a good kick in the head to bring her down from the clouds. If she had time, she would bring him into an embrace, like she did in normal circumstances. It embarrassed the man, but he allowed it.

Jon ran as soon as his mind acknowledged the word 'Mordecai' falling from the scout's lips. He was close enough to hear, and she did not care to keep quiet. His heart went to his throat, and his face paled to a sick white. The muscles in his legs tensed, and before he could think he found himself bolting away from the courtyard and Jinai, the ground crunching underneath his boots.

Mordecai. Mordecai. Mordecai!

He had never seen one in person, but he had heard stories. Many stories. They had filled him with a cold dread, and it all came rushing back as he ran. Jon made his way to the building beside the stables, and the horses whine in nervousness as he darted past. Out from the chimney black smoke rose from the structure. Without the magical protection of the wards around Home, it would have been seen from afar, as well as the others from the kitchens and fires outside the gate walls. Beacons. Leading everyone straight to them. In the face of Mordecai their protection could be taken away quicker than a lightning strike. He came in breathless, and wide-eyed, his hair stuck sloppy to the side of his face. Baris looked up at him from the forge, gripping onto the hilt of a hammer, below him on the anvil a red hot slab of steel glowed furious.

"What is it, boy?" He said. And Jon explained as well as he could, his tongue getting tangled on his words. Whatever little instinct that told him to seek out Baris had been correct. All Jon knew was that he was a reliable man, and seemed to know what he was doing all the time. Plus, he liked him. Anyone that called Jon 'boy' was Okay in his book. Baris told him to run and tell others, spread the word as quick as he could through the hallways, and he did. The word 'Mordecai' being enough to warn. 

   Afterwards Jon ran to grab his sword, feeling silly that he did not don it to begin with. What kind of Ranger was he? A stupid one. He fumbled with the clasp that wound the sheath strap around his torso, hands shaking enough to lose dexterity. Was he really that afraid? He didn't want to answer it, but he knew he felt like a child all over again, and if he told anyone, they would say he was one. When he managed to do up the clasp, he told himself he was a man of the Free Folk. Not a child. He would fight like they would. Die like they would.

I don't want to die. He couldn't help thinking.


The snow was falling heavier now, flakes were donning Torri's hair, and the cloaks of the Free Folk gathered in the Courtyard. She gazed at them with unwavering eyes, her lips pulled into a thin tight line.

"Those with military backgrounds, I want you take the front. You and you, you're appointed squad leaders, I believe in you to know when enter into the fray and when to pull out. The rest of you with little combat practice will hopefully not have to bloody your hands today. Now, can you fire an arrow? Good. Those that have some skill in archery take the look out posts and fire into the ground in front of the Mordecai when they come close as a warning shot. Most like this will not stop them, once  our wards go, it will be obvious that there is magic afoot. A Mordecai's duty is to cull it. I want everyone to understand that it is either their lives or ours. We can't let them leave here alive."

It was a hard truth, but one that needed to be said out loud, even if in their hearts they knew it to be true. For the safety of Home, they couldn't let their existence be known to the Mordecai. It would be over for them. All of them. They had been harbouring unmarked mages who used their powers, they had magical wards - none of it would help deem them innocent in front of a grand court, if they were given such allowance. She doubted it.

"They're coming!" One in the lookout tower shouted. And Torri saw it to be true before the banners came into view from the gate.

Above them, it looked like the sky was cracking. Hairline fractures snaking its way through the faces of the dark clouds. In moments, light filled them like water being poured into a form. This was it. The pressure of the Bear was pushing against her instincts, ready to sate its blood-lust. A high pitched shriek erupted through the air, and the wards around them shattered falling down in pieces of fragmented light. She heard swords being drawn, and the losing of arrows.

She let go.

Torri's clothing tore away, and her body grew huge and filled out with fur. In moments, her screams died away and were replaced with unfettered growls that would shake the bones of any man. Her mind focussed on only one thing. Protect.

They were coming.

Jon had his bow in hand, and notched another arrow. There was at least a dozen men. He only saw one Mordecai donned in the armour of their cause. They rushed the gate, ignoring the arrows that he and the others on the lookout towers loosed. Jon couldn't keep his breath steady, all his shots were worthless and he was losing more than he gained. With his heart beating faster than he could ever imagine it to, he peered over the ledge and into the courtyard. The sound of steel rang together, and the great lumbering bear that was Torri had a man pinned under her paws, she had taken a grazing wound to the shoulder in the process - there wasn't even time to talk things out before the battle started, to barter their way out of the mess. As if they could, it was his own naive mind talking. There would be no mercy here. Not today.

Jon swallowed back the bile rising in his throat. He couldn't stay idle, and now the soldiers and the Free Folk were too close together, he couldn't risk hitting one of their own with an arrow.  With his youthful abandon, and speed harrying his steps, he made his way down the lookout tower and drew his sword. The cold wind whipped around him, not held back by the walls of Home, but he couldn't feel it.

All he saw was the blood as one of the Free Folk was run through.

ooc: Monster post. I apologize. You only need to read the end after the final ~ .

ic:

The news Torri had delivered was made the world feel a whole lot colder. Alastrom stood behind the crowd that had assembled for the meeting and quietly stood with his arms crossed over his broad chest with an expression on his solemn face that could have rivaled the stoicism of the Crow himself.

He did not find the news surprising though. These things happened all the time around him and he'd seen people die for less. It was simply the way things had gone from bad to worse under Connlaoth's newest Grand Duke. Now, the pain of loss was to be felt more often and Alastrom had a feeling that this was only the beginning of something truly wicked.

He bowed his head for a brief moment and offered his silent prayer. Ansgar,please  help these poor souls to find the peace they could not in this life.  His eyes wandered from where Torri stood on the dais and went down to the child standing close beside him.

He felt a small hand slip into his and squeeze it tightly. He could feel the fear in the child's grip, feel it in her sweaty palms. He studied her face and saw that she was trying to force a brave face, but she was still young and vulnerable and tears still came easily. She turned and buried her head into his legs and sobbed. Quite loudly. People heard and some turned to look, but no one moved to comfort her. Quite a few eyes fell on Alastrom and the man thought he might have caught some expectant looks from more than a few women , mostly mothers.

Most people assumed that he was the child's father and he never had denied it. In a sense, he WAS Alanna's caretaker now. She had told him once that the Mordecai had made her parents go to sleep. They'd made the journey to her home in Allar together and it had not been easy thing explaining to her that her parents were never going to wake up mostly because the child was, quite understandably, stubborn and didn't want to accept the harsh reality that now she was alone in the world. Except now , he thought, she wasn't. He promised to look after her.

And in thinking of his newly acquired responsibility, he pulled her into his embrace and patted her back in the manner he'd seen mothers soothing their own. He hadn't seen many fathers doing such things, but since Alanna had no mother...Alastrom had to act as both, he supposed. "Why!?" Alanna sobbed, blowing snot and tears on her friend's clothing. "It's not fair! I'll never get to play with her again! "

Alastrom had no answer to give her that would have given her any comfort and so he remained silent, simply hugging her close. He wasn't going to tell her the truth again, remind her of why mages died and why people who dared to show them any sympathy met with such gruesome ends. She knew why as well as he did. And yet, despite what they knew...he was perhaps as lost as she was. Why did children get pulled into this ? What had that poor girl done to deserve this? What had Alanna done? It wasn't fair. No, not at all.

He let her cry for a few minutes until she'd cried herself dry before he spoke, "Come on, " he said gently, " Let's go inside and get you cleaned up. "

The girl nodded as he stepped out of her embrace. Alastrom put an arm over her shoulder and guided her away from the crowd, walking towards the castle.

~
Once within the castle proper, Alastrom took the girl to the kitchens. "Hello ,Mam, " He greeted the cook with a polite nod.

"Alastrom, hello." The cook returned with a smile though when she saw Alanna's reddened, tear-streaked face she rushed away and returned with a wet rag which she gave to the man and she too gave him that same expectant look that all mothers tended to give him. With a soft sigh he knelt down in front of her and gently wiped her face clean. The girl had her head bowed, hidden behind a mess of frizzy barrier of red hair.

"I'm going to end up just like-"

"They'll have to go through me first," Alastrom cut her off before she could say what he knew what was on her mind.

"I'm scared." She sniffed.

"Don't be. As long you stay behind these walls, the Free Folk will keep you safe." He cupped her chin in his hand and lifted it up so she'd look at him. "Say, it's been a few days since we played your favorite game. I think I've recovered from my last loss. Feel like playing a match? "

Alanna stepped back and wiped her eyes and nose with a sleeve, "Okay! " She ran out of the kitchen.

Alastrom tossed the snotty rag into a bucket , "Thanks, Mam," he said before he too left the kitchen.     

~

"Make them move, Al! " Alanna pleaded with him.

Alastrom knew better than to look at the girl. He knew the moment that he looked at her large, brown puppy-like eyes that he'd yield to almost any request she made no matter how foolish he may have thought it was.
Damn! He had looked.

The man sighed and glanced back over his shoulder, his pale hazel eyes scanning the room to make certain that no one else was watching their game. Seeing that no eyes were upon them, his sights focused his mind on a small collection of pebbles before him in a hole on a playing wooden board. He looked up at her with a slight frown on gracing his rugged expression, " Move them...?" And then he waited for her to finish the sentence , a gentle but expecting look on his face.

"Please?"

He smiled and nodded his approval.

His focus went back to the pebbles. Alanna clapped her hands together and gave a gasp of delight as they floated out of the hole and orbited her head. Alanna laughed and Alastrom started to smile.That rare expression didn't last.

"MORDECAI!" A young man came running into the castle, shouting the warning at the top of his lungs.

The pebbles ceased their orbiting and fell.

"Mordecai are coming! Any man or woman who can fight , make haste to the courtyard. The rest of you stay inside!" 

Alastrom stood up, " Alanna, stay here. Go find Mam and don't leave her side, okay? " He started away. Predictably , the girl followed after him. She went everywhere he did, usually. "Alanna...you cannot come with me." He stopped and turned around to face her.

"Please don't go! I don't want to lose you too!"

Already elderly, children and those unable or unwilling to lend arms were rushing inside. Alastrom gently took the girl by the shoulder and led her aside, out of the way of the rush of the crowd, " I have to go. They need as many fighters as they can get."

Alanna shook her head stubbornly, "Then let me go with you! I can fight ! You taught me how!  I won't get in the way! I'll be really helpful!" She was already in tears.

"I know you can, but Alanna . If the trouble comes in here, they'll need people like you to protect them. Will you do that?"

She nodded. "Okay, but you can't die! Promise you won't!"
"I promise. "

"Pinky lock."

They locked pinkies and he departed.
~
The courtyard was already in a state of mild disarray. It reminded him of something he'd seen before, but now was not the time to take a trip down memory lane. He hastened to the front gates where the action was the most intense. Those that didn't know him or what he was capable would have thought him completely insane and even those that did STILL would have thought him mad. What kind of imbecile ran into a battle without a weapon!?

Well, they were about to find out he wasn't unarmed.

Up ahead he saw a soldier coming up behind a youth that he presumed to be one of the new rangers. "Boy!Behind you!" He called out. Even as he did so , he threw a hand out and focused his mind on the soldier's sword which sought the young ranger's neck, picturing the blade melting away to liquid uselessness.

The soldier gasped and threw the useless and now bladeless weapon aside. "Damned mages!" He snarled.

Roarthe hadn't been to the gathering. There just wasn't any point in it- if there were something he was needed for, Torri would tell him. Otherwise all he'd hear would be more news of the fallen, more tales of refuges found and killed on the road, and more events he could do nothing for. No, instead the Captain chose to do something productive- practice.

The halberd flashed through the air in front of him, then whipped back around for a block. Thrust, slice, block. Take advantage of the weapon's reach, keep the enemy at a distance. Use simple, direct strikes. Stay firm footed; don't let the opponent push you back. Roarthe grunted and gave a final swipe before stopping to wipe the sweat from his brow. He hated to admit it, but his half-plate had felt heavier on him lately.

There was a commotion nearby. Shouts, panic; the man strained his ears to try and make out what was being said. It was mostly garbled, frantic bits of people warning others, but one word stood out: Mordecai. Mordecai? At the gates? Why hadn't they had more warning? Roarthe growled and grabbed the nearest weapons at hand- a hand ax, a small quiver filled with a handful of javelins, and of course the halberd in his hand.

Rushing towards the gate as quickly as he could in his half-plate armor, it wasn't long before the Captain heard the sounds of a struggle. He came into view just soon enough to see one of the soldiers watch his weapon explode in his hands, and the Captain wasn't one to waste an opportunity. Striding forward, Roarthe quickly and effectively lopped off the distracted soldier's head, which landed a foot away with a sickening thud.

One down, now to take stock of the situation. Roarthe surveyed the scene as quickly as he could, and three things stood out in his mind. One, their own numbers were mostly inexperienced and poorly equipped. Two, Torri had charged into the fray with nobody covering her flanks; the Captain growled at that. That woman was powerful, but throwing herself away wouldn't do the Free Folk any good. Three, nobody was blocking the soldier's escape route. If they got away, they'd return with an army at their heels and that'd be the end.

First things first. "Hold steady!" he bellowed. "Stay tight, keep them bottle-necked! Don't let a single man through! Archers, aim for the center of their force! Keep their formation disrupted!"
He saw a flash of steel arcing towards him from the left, and shoved the incoming blade away with the haft of his halberd. Roarthe found himself out of time to worry about tactics and face to face with a young, frightened looking Connlaothian soldier. Swiping at his legs, Roarthe forced his adversary off balance and pressed forward. He hammered at his defenses, keeping him on his guard and without a chance to strike back... until the young man slipped up. The Captain saw him step back and stumble, and in the instant his guard was down the Captain's blade slipped through his armor, slicing through his chest and leaving him with a wound no man would walk away from.

As the young man collapsed, Roarthe hefted his bloody halberd back into position and glared about for his next opponent. If he could only find and slay their commander, the troops might panic and break...

OOC: Man, you all posted such nice long posts! Sorry it took me so long to reply D: I didn't want to give a poopy Jinai post in return 8D
So hopefully my brains are more focused today!
--------------

Her legs were burning by the time she reached the top of the look out tower, breath coming out sharply through her lips. But she didn't want to waste time, and she left a lot of the other rangers behind her as she reached the northern look out tower first. There, she peered over the lip of the stone balcony and surveyed the land beneath her. It was hard to judge just how many there were. Too many trees grew here, but once she spotted the men leaving the forests, her weapon was ready.

With a calmness, she steadied her arm and breath, keeping her green eyes locked upon one man, then let loose arrow after arrow upon the unsuspecting soldiers. A few grunted and went down, enough to help, but not enough to stop them. It seemed they kept coming. Was it a large scouting party? How did they know to find them here? What was their purpose? The questions kept rolling around inside her head until almost all of her arrows were out. She took out a soldier, a young one, right in the eyes before she moved away.

Skirting across the pathway, she made her way along the easterly bridge where the sound of metal clanking to metal could be heard in the battle below. She hadn't a sword, but knives were tucked away on her person. ANd she hadn't magic, all the good it might do if there were enough mordecai to cancel out the mages' powers anyways, so she gave a whistle between her teeth, and a caw shrieked over her. Feather'swing was gliding over head, and another lower whistle came out between Jinai's lips and fingers and the bird took off. A moment later eleven caws came back. That meant the men were pretty deep, and eleven were at the rear, not advancing, and probably stationed at some caravan to the eastern slope of the mountain.

Shit. That meant this was a large number. With no more arrows, there was little left she could do. She whistled once lower, and Feather'swing disappeared from the skies, and Jinai took to a nearby stairwell and began to make her way down towards the field. With a knife in hand, she hesitated before slipping into the forests, taking to the shadow and low brush where she could and waited with a bated breath.

   The smile of the sword came so close to him, he didn't have time to react. But someone was being his guardian that day. The blade wavered seconds before it would wipe his head clean from his neck. It melted away like it was caught in an invisible roaring fire. Jon was stunned. That could have only been magic. But with the Mordecai in the midst, how was one able to cast it? He didn't have time to think, the soldier was still in front of him, and his hands where readying to fetch a knife from his belt. Jon's own hands where white knuckled under his gloves, and his arms felt like jelly. He had to act.

   In an instance, the soldier's head was knocked from his shoulders. A gruesome scene. Far more wicked than Jon could ever imagine. His heart was racing in his ears, and he felt a wave of embarrassment as he spotted his second saviour. The Captain. His grip tightened on his sword, and his mouth pressed into a thin line. Twice saved, it a matter of moments. Was he truly that useless?

   The Captain began to bellow out commands, and the Free Folk on the field gained some composure and purpose instead of flailing about trying to get somewhere, and nowhere being the destination. It was the effect the man had on people. It was the respect they had for his words that they followed without hesitation. He was The Captain. You did what he said if you wanted to keep your life where it was. Jon steeled himself. He had to do this. The others were fighting with all their might, and risking their lives for Home. He was a man of the Free Folk, he couldn't be scared.

   But he was.

   Jon parried a blow from a soldier, feeling the vibration from the swords tingle up his arm. The young man's face was determined, and just as frightened. He was stronger than Jon was, and soon he hand him cornered, pressing the attack hard. Sweat was beading into Jon's hair, and he couldn't catch his breath. The shouts from the field were drowned out by his throbbing heart, and the heavy grunts from the soldier. He was going to die. Once more the thought crossed his mind, as he dodged a lunge by a hair. He caught a cut on his arm, tearing a hole in his clothing. This was it. The last moments of his life. And they would be spent being showed up, and retreating like a coward. What would the Captain think? He was trained by the man, as were they all by some extent. What would Torri think? Jinai? Would he find rest in the grave knowing how he died?

   No, he wouldn't.

   There was an opening for a moment in the soldier's stands, and Jon took advantage of it and with one strong lunge of his sword, he was able to drown the blade in the soldier's neck. Blood spilled down his armour in red torrents, and Jon was close enough to get some on his person. He felt a cold rush over him; a cold of relief as his opponent fell to the ground. Jon dragged his sword out of the man's neck. He couldn't comprehend what he did, not yet, not until after the battle will the gravity of taking a life set down on his shoulders. If he made it that far.

   Torri was still fighting, using her meaty and giant paws to swat way soldiers that though they could get close enough to her to drag her down. She would roar at them, instilling fear, by the size of her teeth and sheer power of her body. Her instincts were on fire, and her senses blazing. She was made for this. Made for war.



((Ooc:  You guys can pretty much take it where you want! Be the hero, don't be the hero. Etc. I don't want to write too far into it so that you don't get the chance to do things!))

ooc: You guys can actually skip reading this. It's not that important. My character isn't much of a hero/warrior type. Hey, but he did something!

ic:

Hearing the Captain's rallying cry, Alastrom did not slow his momentum down. He didn't pause to check on Jon as he normally would have liked. The kid would have to take care of himself from there on . He hurried for the gates, stopping to pick up a sword from one of his fallen comrades. The mage shut his emotions out and ignored the fact that the face was familiar to him, friendly. Instead, he thought of Alanna and what would happen to her if the foe was not eliminated.

He positioned himself in the front alongside the other Free-Folk fighters. Some older, some younger. He thought it mildly ironic that among them, he might have appeared the most likely to be mistaken for a soldier. He had a rough appearance to him that suggested he'd been through hell and back. However, even his somewhat intimidating appearance hardly gave an armored soldier pause.

Alastrom had trained a little with the Captain and the rangers, but he was not a violent man and did not train with nearly as much dedication as a soldier would. He knew he was unpolished and that the lad standing in front of him was probably better with a sword, but Alastrom did not let himself give into fear or doubt. He'd hold his position. Like the Captain ordered. No one was getting past him. No man would reach Alanna. They'd have to fill his corpse with holes and walk over it before that happened. IF that happened.

There was hope in him though . There didn't seem to be many soldiers here. There was a chance at victory. Were it not so, they would already have been outright slaughtered. He knew this. He'd seen it happen before. More times than he'd like to admit.

One of the enemy tried to push past him, lunging forward and plunging his blade at Alastrom's leather-guarded chest. Alastrom held his ground and brought his own blade up just in time to parry the blow . His arm was stronger, but he lacked the technique the soldier possessed. His opponent disarmed him with a finesse that frightened him. However, he was not completely defenseless without a weapon as the poor Mordecai was about to find out . As the Mordecai went to thrust in for a killing blow, the end of his blade bent and curled. The soldier stared at it in disbelief and then at Alastrom whose face was grim, unreadable. Moments later Alastrom's shot forward, striking with such a force that it crushed the Mordecai's helmet. The soldier collapsed dead, the steel of his helmet having pierced his skull.   

Roarthe growled. No sign of their leader; there'd have to be another way to disrupt and demoralize them. With their numbers and their lack of training, they'd need something like that to win this fight. Even as well as they were pulling together now, the Captain expected it would only buy them time. Deflecting another strike from the next soldier who'd decided to charge him, he lashed out with a quick flurry of attacks, bashing aside his assailant's defenses and stabbing him right through the heart. Growling, the Captain moved on before the man's body hit the ground.

That was one thing they were lucky for, at least. As inexperienced and untrained as their own hastily assembled militia was, most of their opponents weren't much better off. Better armored and better disciplined, sure, but most of them seemed barely more than rookies. Any practiced fighter would never have been beaten by that last tactic so easily.

"That's it!" he bellowed. "Stand firm! Don't try to fight them man to man! Strike quick, fight dirty, don't let them fight on their own terms!" The shouting wasn't simply to instruct them, though the instructions were real. A reminder that one wasn't fighting alone went a long way for morale, and morale and a defensible position were all they had right now. "Keep at it!"

Then the Captain looked to the enemy, hefted his halberd, and gave a challenging roar. Quickly he gave another scan of the crowd, looking for where he was most needed. A fading flank- no, they had it under control for the moment. One of the free folk wounded in the leg and being overwhelmed by his opponent; no, too late for him, he'd never survive the battle anyway. An archer, readying an arrow for the biggest target on the battlefield. There.

Roarthe tossed his halberd to his left hand, ripped a javelin from his quiver, and took aim. He didn't think, he didn't question, he just hefted the spear forward and let loose with as much force as he could muster. The archer raised his bow to fire and a look of horror crossed his face in the instant before the lightweight spear ripped into his throat and carried him to the ground. The arrow flew harmlessly overhead. "Damn it, Clarth! Watch your flanks!" Roarthe yelled. And when he yelled, he saw it. Just a flash, barely enough to catch the eye... but there'd been just a hint of decorated armor, something more than the average grunt would wear.

Now just to get to them... Roarthe would need help with that; there were too many armored bodies in the way for him to fight through himself, and there was no clear shot for a javelin. Working his way through to Alastrom, he saw the man dispatch one soldier, while another behind him saw his ally's weapon made useless and looked about to run. Roarthe threw another of his javelins- three left, he noted- and the soldier fell as quickly as the last. "Alastrom!" Roarthe pointed in the direction of the enemy commander and said, not quite loud enough for anyone else to hear over the din of battle, "We don't have the numbers for this, but if we can kill their leader it'll break their spirits. Follow me, we'll force our way through."

There was no asking, no explanation for why he'd picked Alastrom in particular, no expectation that he might hesitate in throwing himself through the bulk of the enemy force. This had to be done, and the Captain intended to do it alone if he had to. Without waiting for a response, Roarthe pushed into the wall of Connlaothian steel in front of him, lashing out at every soldier within the reach of his halberd.

Skirting through the battle, Jinai moved silent as a shadow. Where men were fighting and clanking steel to steel, her leather boots carried her deeper and deeper into the fray, untouched. Though she was at the outskirts of battle, her focus was glued to the exact man their Captain laid eyes upon. And without bulky armor or fancy weapons to weigh her down, Jinai easily slipped past this man and behind him, lurking in his shadows, a subtle knife at her side as she held her breath and waited.

She needed just the right moment to attack. The man was much larger than she, and to fight him head on with just a knife would do little for her. He was also massive, a hulk of a man with armor that glistened off the sun. Yes, he was definitely their leader, and were his neck more exposed, she'd be foolish enough to cut it.

And then it happened, one of the remaining archers had struck an arrow to his helm - though it hadn't sunk inside, it ricocheted off with enough force that it's vibration caused the mordecai leader to grunt and tear it off.

Jinai wasted no time. Her life was less valuable than most; and to protect home, it was worth the risk. Rushing towards the man, her knife caught just a subtle brushing of sunlight as she leaped upont he man, dagger ready to slit his throat.
But she miscalculated, and he as strong, and in one strong motion; Jinai found herself winded and on the ground; the battle whirling around her like a nightmare of cackles. And the leader drew out his blade and readied himself for the finishing blow to kill the girl who just tried to tear open his throat.

The Connlaothian soldiers were recovering from the dizzy start. One could see it in their faces; set in fear and then to a determination. Torri Clarth's humanity remained at the back of her mind, but she could see that if they did not tide this swell they could be lost. Home would loose so much more than a couple of lives. The massive bear gave a roar, and with her paws she brought down a soldier to be stunned. His helmet clanked away from his head, exposing him to elements and steel. One of the other Free Folk took advantage of the opportunity. That was one more down. She could smell the fresh blood in the air, her nostrils flaring, her heart pumping in her chest like a storm. Torri was a great beast, no one could say that she wasn't; lumbering larger than a bear of her species, she was an easy target for archers and for any blade. However, after the soldiers bared witness to what she could do, they began to back off and focus their efforts on the poor armoured Free Folk, and not on the monster's whose claws could rip through their lighter armoured companions.  The Captain held them together, but it was only a matter of time.

   On the wind she smelt Jinai come close - The woman's expertise was not out right combat. She had a purpose in her steps now, she had to have. That's what Torri would have liked to believe. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw her engage with a heavily armoured soldier - no, that was the Mordecai. Torri wanted to scream out 'stupid girl'. To tell her that the Commander's gorget would block whatever dagger she had on her. She was going to be run through.

   Jon's breathing was harsh, the battle was happening around him in a blur. Warm blood was on his clothing, and on the blade of his sword, still dripping. He wasn't sure what to do. At his feet laid the body of a soldier not much older than he was. The snow was falling heavy around them, and the cold reddened everyone's faces. Soon it would cover the dead, and stiffen their bones and blood. His eyes caught the castle-fixer and the Captain; the wall of Free Folk holding steady against the soldiers. If he had the senses of a beast like Torri Clarth, he would have been able to taste the thick fear in the air. But he didn't need to, to know that it was there. For the moment, he was able to breath, feeling the ache of the air in his chest.

   A call came from behind, and Jon looked up to a pair of archers that had climbed their way to the roof of the stables and blacksmith. They had a better angle than the ones on the ramparts. They notched their arrows and let them fly over Jon's head knocking themselves into the armour of a soldier harrying the wall of Free Folk. They staggered, and one of the folk bashed in the unprotected face with the pommel of their sword.

   "Yes!" Jon lifted his sword up in an early victory shout. 

   But the battle was far from over, not that his mind could comprehend it at that very moment. Adrenaline seethed through him and he flexed his fingers on the hilt of his sword. They could do this! They weren't going to die! He found himself grinning like a mad man, until it faltered when he saw the glimpse of Jinai wading her way through engaged swords. For now he was out of the battle, but the sight of that pretty girl made him want to lunge back into it. His eyes followed her and he took a few steps, setting his mouth into a grim line. And perhaps it was his destiny to do so, for he was close enough to the Mordecai(unbeknownst to him) to see Jinai fumble. Jon's heart shot to his throat, seeing the soldier getting the upper hand, and without thinking he began to run, closing the gap between them with haste. With a springing leap he straddled the soldier from behind, his blade gone from his hands. His long legs wrapped around the man's plated middle, and his hands snaked their way across the soldier's helmet so he couldn't see. A myriad of curses exploded into the air, and for a moment the man could keep his stance, the next he was falling backwards and onto Jon. He tried not to scream and swallowed back vomit, when like lightning, pain struck his chest.

"Alastrom!"

He recognized the voice and shot a glance back over his shoulder at the captain. His eyes followed the man's pointing arm and traveled across the battlefield towards a particular armored figure that Alastrom recognized immediately to be that belonging to a Mordecai captain. He knew what Roarthe was planning before the man spoke it. Though he was no warrior , Alastrom knew well enough that by cutting off the head of a snake ,the body would die.

He nodded understanding the task's importance. He didn't question why he was picked when there were others here more skilled in combat than himself. He was able-bodied, nearby, and the clock was ticking. Alanna would die if these bastards weren't stopped. He'd do whatever it took to make sure that didn't happen, "Right behind you!"

Alastrom hastened to cover the Captain's flank , fending off any attacker that thought to strike at the man from a less than honorable angle with the blade he borrowed from one of the fallen. Though his magic could have dispatched soldiers more quickly and easily , Alastrom wasn't stupid. Being the type of rare mage that he was, the Mordecai would take notice and focus on killing him first. He had promised Alanna that he wouldn't die.

There weren't many men left though. Half a dozen(ooc: I'm not pulling numbers out of my arse here. I asked Looshi first.)  , at the least, a couple shy of a dozen at the most. The enemy seemed to be well aware of their dwindling forces for they were beginning to slowly retreat and regroup around , rallying to their captain's cry. Only two of six or seven soldiers remaining were nearing their destination. The others , meanwhile , were struggling to fend off the Free Folk who, despite their combat finesse were pressing their opponents hard and giving absolutely no quarter.

They broke through the line and whatever opponent Roarthe didn't manage to cut down himself, Alastrom stepped in and finished the job. (ooc: I'm going to let the captain take more kills here as it just makes more sense. ;P ) Now they were , perhaps, a couple hundred feet from their target when something entirely unexpected occurred. The fool of a Mordecai removed his helmet!

Alastrom knew this would have been a perfect opportunity to kill the man. It'd be easy! All he had to do was get a large enough rock and hurl it at the man's head. The impact would kill him or knock him unconscious so that he could be killed. It was a dishonorable tactic and never one that Brother Gallagher would have EVER considered employing but times had changed now and he was different. Surviving was all that mattered because he wasn't simply doing it for himself anymore. Without hesitation, he focused his mind on the earth , searching for the right rock missile. Ah. There. A fist-sized rock was pulled  to his palm. "I've got him." He spoke to no one in particular and prepared to throw...

Jinai's failed attack foiled him. The commander hastily put his helmet back on and drew his blade and moved in for the kill...

Hastily, Alastrom focused his mind on a quicker spell that would make the man's weapon worthless and give Jinai a better chance to defend herself , but then Jon came out of seemingly nowhere, leaping at the Mordecai and riding him piggy-back style. The Mordecai lost his balance and fell over on top of Jon.

With Jon dazed beneath him, the enemy captain managed to break free of the lad's grip and was on his feet in an instant.

"HEY!" Alastrom threw his rock now as hard as he could. Crud! His target moved his head and the missile missed by a narrow margin. Now the captain now turned his armored head to regard him. At least the projectile had some desired effect. 

"Come and get me if you think God is on your side!" Alastrom taunted. All he needed was for the man to be away from Jon just by a couple steps. He didn't want to end up harming the lad or , worse, killing him if he could avoid it.

The Mordecai took a couple steps forward, noting how Alastrom stood not far from him with an odd expression on his face . Al dropped his sword and pressed his hands together before him , resting them just beneath his bearded chin. Head bowed and expression serene , yet focused like a man whom was meditating. However, it dawned on the captain what the other might have been trying to do.

No. It couldn't be possible, but he'd heard such things before. No, no. Those types of mages were rare! There was no way there could be one here. This fool was trying to intimidate him. The captain advanced on him, confident that he could cut down an unarmored fool.

Alastrom waited patiently for the other to draw within a few steps of him before he raised and arm and ,with his hand he made a single gesture ,clenching his hand tightly into a fist as though he were crushing a bug in his grasp.

To anyone watching,  it looked ridiculous at first because nothing seemed to be happening. The Mordecai's steps gradually slowed. The man gasped, but no noise came out. He felt his armor constricting him, binding him so tightly that it was breaking bone. It was over in a matter of moments. The enemy captain fell face forward, his armor looking as though it had been crushed betwixt Tori's massive paws.

Alastrom lowered his arm and felt a  rush of mental anguish hit engulf his mind. The pain coupled with dizziness brought the man to his knees. From that point on, he knew he would be worthless in this fight. The rest was up to the others.

Ooc :

Tl;dr version (for people whom are too lazy to read)- Alastrom distracts the Mordecai captain from Jon and kills him by crushing his armor with his mind. Yes. His mind. That's how awesome and scary his powers are, kids!

Highwayman, you are welcome to kill the two soldiers (or more) near the captain. I suspect that they MIGHT catch wind of what Alastrom was up to and try to kill him so please feel free for Roarthe to bust out the can of WHOOP-A and take them out. 

Or other Free Folk could handle them. Al won't. He probably has a massive headache now. 

Loosh or Highway, let me know if you'd like me to edit this. I'm open to changing things . Heck, I could go with something less impressive and slay the guy with a rock. xD I really don't mind!

Roarthe took the brunt of the fighting as they neared the enemy leader, using the extended reach of the polearm to keep interlopers at bay, but he fell back as Alastrom gave his challenge. The man knew what he was doing, let him handle it. He gave a nod of satisfaction as the enemy commander collapsed, hefting one of his remaining javelins in search of another target. One of the soldiers had turned to flee at the sight of his leader falling, and he barely took three steps before the lengthy projectile ripped right through his armor.

The other either learned from his comrade's mistake or was simply made of sterner stuff, as the Captain watched him make a beeline for the exhausted mage. Striding forward, the Captain met him halfway and quickly jabbed at the Connlaothian soldier's leg before the man could get within range to use his blade. The man had been expecting a more direct strike, and howled as his foot was nailed to the ground by the polearm.

As soon as the strike was made, the Captain released his halberd and reached for his hand-axe. Step back, let him miss. He'll tear his wound open further. Block, step in, press the attack, and take the opening. The soldier dropped his blade with a cry as Roarthe's axe-handle smashed into his wrist with enough force to break bone, then fell silent as the axe itself whipped through the air and into the opening of his helmet.

Retrieving his halberd, the Captain looked back towards the bulk of the fray. No good throwing his remaining javelins- too much chance of hitting one of the Free Folk- and the fight would likely be finished by the time he could get within a blade's reach. "You three, on your feet! If they try to flee, somebody has to intercept them. Did anybody see any other soldiers escape?"

Well what happened was no where near short of surprise. Jon was upon the Captain in seconds, leaving Jinai on the ground to gape up at the pair of them, utterly stunned. And then the next few series of attacks woke her from her spell as she scrambled to her feet and made herself scarce, and only when the captain was 'preoccupied' did Jinai slip behind him like a shadow and scoop Jon up, tossing her arm over her shoulder as she inquired, "Can you stand?"
Cause if not, they had to think of a clever way to Get the Fuck Out of there, quick!

Jana ran.

Her feet pounded against the forest floor as the sheaths of her two daggers clanked together. She was camouflaged well, in a dark green shirt and brown, leather pants. But her camouflage didn't matter anymore.

She had been out, scouting. Like she did every morning. She had brought two new rangers with her to show them the ropes. But what a horrible job she had done. She could hear the fighting. Feel it, even. And fighting at the base could only mean one thing: Mordecai. How could she have not seen them earlier? The soldiers were bad enough, but letting Mordecai in was unforgivable.

So Jana ran. She had to help. She could distract the Mordecai--lure them away. She was great at that. But she had to reach them to be able to help.

The rangers with her were keeping up, to her surprise. She picked up the pace, anxious to get back. She was now close enough that she could hear the screaming. The armor. The swords.

And then she got close enough to see the bodies.

The two other rangers ran in to help the remaining soldiers.

Jana just stood there, petrified.

Any other ranger would have stayed with her. Helped her. But of course the new people didn't know better. They hadn't felt with her in these kinds of situations.

It used to be worse. Jana used to scream, collapse, and cry. Now she just froze up. She couldn't think. No, she couldn't process. She could think. But she could only think of Reagan and the poor, dead soldier and how bad she was.

So she didn't notice the cowardly soldier sneaking up behind her. All she could see was red. Red, red, red.

Though not a man who wanted to get his hands dirty, he couldn't just leave the Free Folk to get slaughtered. Having gone to leave but quickly having turned back around, (and it seemed just in time too!), Trest Arristaire came around back to jam his sword clean through the soldier who could have easily taken Jana's head.
THe man made a noise, a hurled grunt as the sword thrust through him, but quickly the bloodied blade was kicked out from his torso before Trest's blue eyes went to Jana as he gave her a shrug.
"It's a battle. Best to keep your eyes on all sides of your person."
Though he spoke the words in nonchalance.

Torri let out a roar that would have shook any birds from the rooftops of the ramparts. Cut down in front of her was the last of the invading soldiers. The woman who had the last strike looked around, her hands shaking on the hilt of her bloodied sword. Torri sat back on her haunches, and allowed her self to breathe in her human mind. They had won. But still she didn't change back, her hackles still raised and her instincts flaring. It was for caution than for anything else. The woman in front of her dropped her sword and fell to her knees, exhausted. There was a slash to her shoulder, and the blood slowed down her arm in a dark red stain.

How many of their own did they lose?

Jon took the offer for Jinai to help him. His chest felt like it was on fire, and he was worried he had broken a bone. A couple of ribs. He could still stand, but not up straight, and his hunched form made its way out from the middle of the battlefield with the help of the pretty woman. His face couldn't stop from turning a bright red.

The wounded were tended to the best the Free Folk could, with the lack of any true medical supplies or a healer that had magic. The merchants on the roads wouldn't be making as many trips as the dead of winter approached, their help was limited. Old healing ways were applied - herbs and salves, as well as prayers to Ansgar, which some scoffed at. There was a number of dead to deal with; more in the leathers and armour of the military than those of the battered cloth of the Free Folk. They couldn't bury them. They didn't have the space, and the graves would lead too much evidence if anyone should come looking for the unit. That was where Torri's mind was when she walked back out into the courtyard, back in clothing after having shrunken down to her womanly form once more.

She had given orders before she left, and they were being seen to. The soldier's bodies were stripped of anything the Free Folk could use - such as the armour and weapons. Torri had sent scouts out to look for a nearby camp - there could be another attack on the horizon, and they had to be prepared. Wards had been set up along Home's perimeter once more, and they glowed along the walls with a warm blue. They would mask the smoke in the sky. Torri had a piece of cloth wrapped around her nose and mouth, as did many of the Free Folk, not that it would do much. The smell of burning flesh was strong.

They didn't bother with funeral rights. All the bodies were set into a pile with stones ringing it and lit on fire. Daylight was fading, and the orange glow lit up their faces.

As Kolo walked the simple dirt road, he stared at the muddy path ahead of him with disdain, thinking about whether or not he should've stayed at the little hut he made a mile back, or gone on to the old castle he saw from the hill. It was too late now, he thought - the herbs he'd gathered wouldn't keep very long, and he was halfway there. Besides, a proper if leaky roof was better than none at all, he supposed.

The old sage's thoughts wandered as he walked. The past few villages spoke in hushed tones of the great 'civil war' going about. Preposterous, he thought. What war is civil? Are there great battles consisting of men glaring at one another over tea and painfully polite conversation? Nay, he thought, no war can be civil! It would make too much sense.

Kolo was pulled out of his thoughts when his head bumped into something he couldn't see. He'd arrived at the castle for sure, he thought - why, the gate to the courtyard was right in front of him, wide open - but upon closer inspection by way of careful prodding with his cane, he found there to be quite a rigid barrier in front of him. He looked back at the wet ground and noticed something peculiar - footprints, a great many of them, and parts of the dirt and mud where it looked like something heavy was dragged, and... blood?

Kolo bent and inspected it. Dirty blood. Fresh, but dirty, and mixed, too. Something was terribly amiss with this castle. Haunted by spirits of war? No, spirits didn't bleed real blood. Kolo mindlessly tapped at the invisible barrier with his cane while he thought, making quite a bit of racket without particularly realizing it.

Eventually Kolo's cane missed the invisible barrier - had it moved? - and he nearly fell, but caught himself with a frantic flap of his wings. Paranoid now of these invisible walls, he poked around where the door would be if it were closed and took tiny steps forward. As he crossed the threshold, he found himself suddenly face-to-face with a rather frustrated-looking young woman with her hands on her hips, his cane poking her in the foot.

"Erhwa? I... er... Pardon me, miss, but where am I, and how did you appear before me so suddenly?" he asked politely, carefully lowering his black wood cane to the ground and resting his hands on it. He smiled up at her, hoping he hadn't incurred her wrath.

It was then he noticed the smell. And the pile of burning corpses. And the wounded men and women, the weapons and armor, and the fresh, dirty blood mingling in the dirty courtyard.

"Excuse me, madam. If that man there doesn't remove that arrow, it'll get the green-rot and he'll lose his foot." Kolo pushed his way past the entirely flabbergasted woman and knelt in front a young man with an arrow sticking out of his shin who sat by a wall.

"Don't be alarmed, lad. This is going to hurt for a moment, but you'll get to keep that foot of yours." Kolo reached into his pack and took some of the herbs he'd gathered that morning from his pack as well as a pestle and mortar. He quickly crushed them and mixed them with water to create a paste. He tasted it, grimacing at its bitter flavor, deciding it was good enough. He took a roll of cloth bandages from his pack as well and grasped the arrow-shaft. "Don't worry, son. You're in Kolo's hands. Good hands. I'll take it out on the count of three, alright?"

The young man nodded, confused by the weird-looking man but wishing desperately to have the arrow out of his shin. "Good. One. Two." Kolo pulled the arrow out smoothly. "Three. See, that wasn't so bad, eh?" He applied the herbal salve to the bandage and dressed the young man's wound. "You'll be fine, my boy. Just keep off that foot for a week or two, and change those bandages three times a day. Wash it, too, if you want to keep your foot."

Kolo clapped the youth on the shoulder and stood. He turned to face the crowd of Free Folk that had watched him do this. "Ehm... Hello there." He itched his head. "Is anyone else wounded?" he asked, smiling up at the crowd.

With the return to consciousness there came the incessant, drumming of exquisite pain at the forefront of his skull. Though his nose detected the overwhelming stench of burning bodies, and could hear the cries of Free-Folk who mourned for those whom they had lost, Alastrom's attention was seized by an almost unbearable mental agony that drove his thoughts dangerously close to the contemplation of self-termination. Aside from being a holy man, these headaches were the reason he preferred to avoid using his abilities. Manipulating the composition of earth and metals with one's thoughts was no small feat and it came with a heavy price, one that he did not regret paying in this instance .

"Al, are you okay?" He heard Alanna close by along with a small group of children that commonly followed him around because they were either fascinated by his abilities or had parents who mistakenly thought he was the local babysitter. Had he opened his eyes, he would have seen that Alanna was kneeling down next to where he was laying on the earth in the exact same place where he'd initially lost consciousness in the courtyard. No one dared move him for fear of the mage mistakenly lashing out subconsciously. Of course, no one understood how Alastrom's powers worked or they would have known that where there were headaches, no magic would follow. Alanna, on the other hand , never really paused to think about these sorts of things. She was a bit fearless in that sense, but more than that she simply trusted her guardian and never doubted his control over his magic.   

He felt a small hand slip into his and squeeze it. Groaning softly, Alastrom opened an eye and turned his head sideways in the direction of Alanna's voice. He saw her worried face and smiled weakly, "Yeah. Just a little tired."

Alanna hadn't seen anything , but she'd overheard people talking and she couldn't help asking, "Did you really squish a man?"

At this question, Alastrom frowned but nodded.

Now she frowned because she knew what happened whenever he used scary magic like that, "Does your head hurt really bad?"

He lied, quietly, "Just a little. Don't worry."

Alanna rocked back on her heels and made a pouting face at him. "So, are the bad guys all gone?"

"...I don't know. It seems to look that way for now." He winced and his expression twisted with pain.

"Liar. Your head does hurt. " She half-turned and waved at the other children gathered in a circle around him. "Back off , you guys! Al needs some space!" In truth, she was the one who was irritated by their hovering.

Jana flipped around as she heard the grunt and the sound of the sword entering the man's body. Her eyes  went wide and her mouth soon followed suit. He was dead, obviously, and she thought about the man she killed. She had stabbed him, too.

She wasn't against killing. She knew what had to be done had to be done. And the soldier had planned on killing her—he wasn't good. But she couldn't bring herself to do it... or to witness it. It just brought back those horrible memories of that poor soldier she killed. All he was doing was following her wretched father's orders. So even when she wanted to help her new family, there wasn't a single thing she could do but freeze.

Trest's voice took a few seconds to reach her ears, but Jana did eventually process it. Her eyes flittered as she tried to clear her head. She had to move, she knew that. "Thanks," she mumbled, wondering if Trest knew about her hemophobia. Almost everyone from the guild did. But Trest wasn't really from the guild. "I'm sorry, I still can't deal with situations like this... would you mind helping me inside? I'm afraid I will throw up if I stay out here much longer." And she knew she would probably end up collapsing if she tried to walk through or around all the dead bodies.

Trest hesitated a moment. He hadn't meant to stay here, but with the fighting finally at a cease, he simply nodded at her request. And he couldn't help but smile a little as he offered Jana his shoulder. Wouldn't Torri scold him for this one? He shook his head of it and grunted as he let her weight lean in on him.
"Here now, easy does it, just lean on me alright and I'll get you back inside."
And once he had her more secure, he moved with her in awkward strides before they were inside the secured building, and it wasn't until he found her a more comfortable spot did he held her to sit.

There was chaos everywhere, bodies bleeding and people groaning in pain, but Trest didn't seem to realize he had taken the hemophobic woman and dragged her from the bloodied battle field into the bloody recovery area.
"There, easy does it. Think you might be alright now?" he asked, giving her a boyish grin as his blue eyes were shining- for the man seemed hardly phased over the attack, but then again, he was used to such things where Jana, albeit she had been a soldier, might not have the stomach for.



And while Trest was attending to Jana, Jinai was looking over Jon. She made a face at the other's wounds.
"Those look like they hurt," she said with a gesture, frowning over the blood as she glanced around. but the place was in dissaray, and she knew the place hadn't a solid healer amongst them- just a few with minimal medical knowledge, if any at all. So she did the best she could, scouting nearby for some supplies when a peculiar, new voice was heard. Kolo.
The man must be new, but at the offer of help she waved towards him.
"Over here! We've got someone wounded!" she said, hoping to flag the man down. "Here's hoping this old bag can help you," Jinai muttered to her companion as she stayed at Jon's side.

"I'll be bloody perfect," Jana muttered under her breath to Trest's question once they were inside. Nonetheless, she was grateful for his help and took a seat. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before more clearly responded, "Sorry, I'm in a rotten mood. Blood doesn't go over well for me... it's a long story, but let's just say I'm a bit hemophobic. And seeing the dead bodies of my family wouldn't please me very much even if that wasn't the case. Especially some of the younger, less prepared ones. They remind me of my siblings back home."

Leaning back, she sighed. "Lovely people, they are. But you had better help the others." She didn't want Trest to waste time on herself, especially when she had no real issues. She just had to keep her eyes closed and tune out the wails around her and she should be fine. In five minutes or so, she would be well enough to return to the woods and make sure there were no other soldiers coming. Until then, she would need other people to keep an eye out.

"Trest?" she called, a few seconds later. "Will you do me a favor and get some experienced rangers over here? Some that aren't injured would be nice... and thank you. For saving my life and, well, my sanity I guess."

Trest cocked his head to one side at her inquiry.
"Do I look like your maid?" he jested, grinning at her playfully, despite the whole situation of the after math. Then again.. this was Trest. He was pretty good at remaining cool under pressure. Also, he had entered the fight a bit late, so he wasn't as worn down as the rest might have been.
"But what do you need rangers for? And you might want to look into that whole 'don't like blood' sort of thing. I don't think we're the sort of people in a line of work that can avoid that sort of thing." And then at her last comment about saving her life, he shrugged and gave a partial roll of his eyes. "And you don't have to thank me. I just hope someone would do the same for me, is all." And at such a clever retort, he gave another clever grin.

Torri made her way into the courtyard once again, fully clothed this time in her furs. She hated having to destroy the ones that she had been wearing before hand, but she couldn't help the necessity to shape-shift; to embrace the bear. The cold lingered, but was filled with a grim warmth. The smell had risen throughout Home; of burning hair and bodies. That too was a necessity.  She made her rounds, her lips turned down into hard lines. She counted their wounded, and her mind any number was too many.

At the sight of the man with wings, walking so easily through their illusions without the words, her hand went to the dagger at her side - her knuckles whitening as she gripped the hilt. She strode over, and soon found out that the man was named Kolo and he was a healer. She thanked him and set him to heal others.

Jon had managed to drag himself off to the side, his chest full of pain. He was readying to vomit, but nothing came. He laid back on the ground, the cold and the snow flooding through his clothing and seeping into his skin. He welcomed it. Jon's face was paler than it usually was, but his nose was red from winter's brush. He had closed his eyes then, trying to get the picture of the rising smoke out of his mind. He was drifting off then...

A voice. Her voice. Jinai.

There she was looking over him as he opened his eyes. Jon felt a blush rise to his cheeks, but felt too weak to try to hide it. The new healer didn't seem to hear Jinai call out.

"I'm all right..." He said, his voice a little quiet, sitting up he winced. "It hurts, but I don't think anything is broken. That's uh.. Not my blood."

Unable to keep upright any longer he laid back down. "I'm just... I'm just going to lay here for a bit."

Jinai made a face, wrinkling her nose. She wasn't going to buy Jon's lie.
"You look like shit." She picked herself off the ground when she spotted Torri. "I'm going to see if we can't get you something, hold on." And she jogged over to where Torri now stood, eyes sweeping and accessing the damage. Someone else seemed about ready to approach her, but Jinai just shoved them none too gently aside.

"Torri!" she said, stumbling to a halt before her. "Do you know if anyone with healing knowledge survived? We got a lot of wounded around here. Jon's among them. I put the boy over there- but he's insisting he's not as hurt as he is."
THough she knew she'd do the same, she wasn't about to just let the by wither away and possibly die... 'for nothing'.

Jana scoffed and bitterly replied, "Angsar knows I try, Trest. Angsar knows I try." It seemed like hemophobia wasn't the kind of thing that left easily, though. One of the soldiers cried out and Jana winced. With her eyes closed, she could only help but imagine the scene around her. The soldiers—no, most weren't even real soldiers—the people trying to get up and realizing that it wouldn't be as easy as normal. That they would be scarred forever. That their life was forever changed... again.

"And I need rangers to help scout more. It's possible that the noise attracted others, or that there were more soldiers following soon afterwards. I can't let anyone else get hurt. But make sure the rangers are good... I'm going to need more help than usual, it seems."

((Assuming that Kolo is um...really busy attending to people))

"Don't move, Al." Alanna told her guardian sternly

Alastrom sighed and assured his young charge gently, "I'll be fine."  It was a lie, of course, but as far as he knew, there were no such things as healers who could soothe his aching mind and it was simply better not to tell a child such because it would only cause her further upset.

But Alanna knew something was wrong and the little girl was determined to get help. "I'll go get help!"

"Alanna...wait-!" But as loudly as he protested after her, there was really no telling that girl what to do when she set her mind to something. He sighed and muttered under his breath, "Kid never listens. My beard will turn grey before I'm thirty if she has her way of things..."

Alanna made her way through the courtyard, pausing to stare and gasp at all the bodies of the dead , dying and injured. The sight terrified her and she wanted nothing more than to turn around and run back to the castle and hide away from it all but no. She had to help Al! And so, bravely, she continued to move forward winding her way through the crowd of people who amassed around Torri and the strange new man, Kolo.

She had immediately thought to go to Torri because Torri was always the person she ran to when she couldn't run to Al. Try as she might, she was just too small and weak to wriggle her way through the crowd. She looked around for someone else to ...

Well, the person she saw couldn't help Alastrom, but maybe they could help her fetch someone else who could.

And she saw Jon lying on his back off to the far end of the courtyard. Oh yes. She knew Jon well. She could spot the dummy from a mile away and she honestly wasn't surprised to find him in such a position because, honestly, it was Jon and being Jon meant being kinda lame and hopeless. Sometimes Alanna felt sorry for him. He was so awkward and dumb that she wondered if half the time he couldn't help himself and was simply born that way. Maybe the dumbness ran in his family. Probably on the dad's side because , as everyone knows, all boys are dumb...

"Jon? Hey, Jon! What are you doing down there?" Probably being lazy and dumb. She smirked, but as she drew closer that expression wavered. Was that blood on his clothing? She rushed over to him and knelt down beside him. "Is that...your blood?" She fought to maintain a calm tone and expression because she was rarely nice to Jon and it hurt her pride to show that she actually cared about him. Well, if he died on her who else was she going to torment!?

"Jinai!" But she didn't hear him. Jon let his arm sink down to his side, and grabbed a hand full of snow. It was cold, yet felt good after all that adrenaline pumping through him from the fight. It was quieter now, and still the sounds of swords and screams rung in his ears. He wouldn't admit it out loud - nightmares were soon to come.

Torri was making her through the courtyard, trying to find Alastrom when she was stopped. She turned, her face serious, and her mouth pressed into a thin and unwavering line.

"You know we have Odray." She said to Jinai. The man claimed to be a former medic of an army, but she had her doubts about his true origins. He was an odd fellow to say the least, yet she couldn't say anything worse about them - he had helped them in dark times, as he was doing now.

"We're all busy, if it's not severe, Jon will have to wait." It may have seemed cold, and it was. Jon was new, and inexperienced. Worth less than the other Rangers with more time under their heels. It was the hard way of the world.

Said Jon was dozing off when he heard a familiar high pitched voice. He opened one eye, and then the other, and frowned.

"Oh it's you." He said, they didn't exactly get along. "I'm fine. It's not my blood."

At least he hoped it wasn't.

Jinai cut her a look.
"Odray? That fool survived?" She shook her head, hoping that, while she was out running her typical 'errands' for the Folk, he had been replaced. Or someone better came along. But being as it seemed Torri was not about to oblige, her frown deepened.
"Fine. I think I got a few thing that'll help him."

Her drugs were supposed to be used to keep pain down anyways, even if it might make the boy loopy, so she returned to his side and ignored the boisterous young girl and shoved a vial of opiates in his hand.
"Drink half of that. It'll help with the pain."

Yes, that fool Odray survived. By cowering in the keep no doubt. The man was not feeble, and he had some skill in combat. But in the end, he had deserted the army and came Home.

Torri had found Alastorm laying on his back in the field. Her frowned tightened and she thought the worst. Brushing her red hair out from her face, she knelt down, her knees crunching in the snow.

"Are you all right, friend?" She asked, with warmth in her voice. "Come, lets take you inside away from the smoke."

Jinai came back to where Jon was laying, and he was glad for a moment that his only company wasn't the little brat. Man, she was annoying. How did Alastrom put up with her? He was like a rock!

The woman shoved a vial into his hands, and he squinted at it.

"What's this?" he asked dumbly, blind to the rumours that surrounded Jinai. But without much further thought, because he was dumb, he downed half of what was in the vial.

"Opiates," she told him bluntly. "You'll be feeling twice as better now that that's in your system. Though you might not be able to walk straight for a while. How do you feel? Those drugs reach your head yet?" she asked with a bit of a smirk.