Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-5543592-20150626145118/@comment-5583506-20150630031220

The young Forsworn approached the travelers with lowered eyebrows.

He was lean and athletic, but not overly muscular. He sort of had a boyish appearance to him with a pair of dull, blue eyes, red hair and a clean-shaved chin. However judging from his appearance it was entirely sure that he had grown a stubble at all in his life.

"And what business would an Imperial, a Nord and a..." He glanced at Elda. "... woman have in the land of the Reachmen?" he asked.

Elda smirked and approached the young man. "Oh, you see... Here is the deal..."

From all of a sudden Elda launched her fist into Skuld's face, breaking his nose and causing the young man to stumble backwards with a humiliating impact of his behind against the muddy ground.

The Forsworn angrily raised their bows and aimed them at Elda who was still smiling heart-warmingly. "Let's not get all too dramatic with all this kill the outsiders-drama now, shall we?"

She turned her head towards Tiberius and Ragnar. "Avert your eyes, men-folk."

She undid the buttons on her shirt and exposed her chest to the Forsworn, causing them to lower their bows as soon as they saw the warpaint between her breasts.

"Cat?" mumbled Skuld in confusion from the ground, while Elda buttoned her shirt. "Bitter-Cat, is that you?"

"Remembered me just now, did we?" scoffed Elda, who was clearly unsatisfied with the man's sense of recognition. "After all those cold nights you spent beneath my sheets when I returned from Solitude, and you still can't recognise me? You deserved that broken nose."

Skuld groaned. "I... I guess I did... But for fuck sake, Cat. Did... did you really have to break it?"

"It's not often I get to break things, so I figured I would take back some lost opportunities."

"Enough with the formalities!" growled the man with the bushy beard and approached the group. "Elda, what are you doing with these... foreigners?"

"They are mine", she stated simply.

"I can't see any bindings or markings on them?"

"Haven't gotten to it yet, Ylgjar. Calm the fuck down, would you? Or else I will bloody your nose just like I did with your 'short-speared' son."

Ylgjar mumbled something incoherent underneath his beard. "I would like to see you try, Bitter-Cat", he said threatingly. "You may be Wylda's niece, but that doesn't mean shit to me. Talk to me like that again and I will cut off that smart tongue of yours and shove it so far up your ravenous cunt that you will be unable to defile my son or any other man ever again."

"My, with words like those it's no wonder your wife voluntarily got herself killed by a bandit raiding party."

The man with the bushy beard glared at her as if he was ready to disintegrate her with just his stare.

"Go on then", she said quietly as she put her hands on the hilt of her shortswords. "Give me one good reason..."

He snorted and turned around hastily, signaling for the other Forsworn to follow the group from behind. "We are taking you back to the lair. The tribe leader would want to have a look at his new servants."

"You can't do that", remarked Elda. "They are mine. Do I have to write you a rulebook?"

"They don't have any markings", retorted Ylgjar. "If you haven't completely forgotten about our customs while you were fucking everything with a beard in Solitude, you know well enough that if they lack the appropriate markings, they belong to the tribe in general. Perhaps it is you who need a rulebook?"

Elda growled lowly as she clenched her hands so hard around her weapons she thought that her hands would start bleeding.

Five Forsworn men and three women came up the group from behind and slightly poked at Tiberius and Ragnar with the tip of the spears. "March! Onward, Outsiders!"