Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-24510587-20190219030909/@comment-5543592-20190219225456

"He will be back." Cade said. "He left his horse."

Eoghann had killed many men.

Had watched the blood drain from their necks, the life from their eyes. He had painted himself in it afterwards and danced before the fire, praying to the Old Gods.

His brothers and sisters gathered around him, crawling on their stomachs, spears in hand.

The outlanders sat on the ridge below the fire around them. A woman and man.

Their fire was a beacon to the eyes of the Forsworn. This was the Reach. Its crags and valleys were theirs. The hubris of them, to set up an open flame, to cry their presence to the skies. The fires of the Reach belonged to the Forsworn. The Nords hid behind their Dwarven walls in their stone city and prayed that the Forsworn did not take it. Those skies were thick with the smoke of their industry.

But the skies of the Reach were clear and empty. The Nords knew better. These outlanders did not.

When Eoghann was younger the Imperials had marched in here with their thick armors and glinting weapons, with their steel and heavy engines of war. They had been arrogant too. To think one could crush the Forsworn. Eoghann’s father had fallen to the Imperials. His mother too. They had killed and died for this rock.

And when the Legion had marched from south to north and piles of Forsworn lay dead behind them they had declared the land conquered and left, their thick armor dented and their weapons bloody, their heavy engines broken and slow.

But you could not kill the Forsworn, could not conquer them. Because the Forsworn was the Reach.

And nothing conquered the Reach.

A bird whistle cut the night, and Eoghann crawled forwards, heavy stones scrapping his naked stomach. His blood wet the rocks, slick beneath him.

His bare feet were soundless on the stone canopy. The outlander in his steel suit and girl with her steel sword.

All outlanders were the same. They thought metal and industry made them safe, protected them. But strip that away and they bleed easily enough.

He twisted the spear in his grip, holding it overhand.

Another bird whistle, and Eoghann called twice in response.

All around Cade and Meyline there was a sudden cry of shrieks and whoops.

In the darkness Meyline felt someone heavy and large strike her. A fist batted the side of her head, a hand closed around her throat. She fell back against the rock, someone larger and stronger above her. He looked down at her in the firelight, his face a mess of scars and war paint and blood. He opened a mouth of jagged teeth at her and screamed.

“Friend Meyline!” Cade rushing to his feet, broadsword escaping into his palm.

But then out of the dark four more came, dropping like monkeys from trees, each of them snagging a climb. Cade cried out going backwards, towards the end of the ravine.

A fifth Forsworn came down from the canopy in hand, and threw it into Cade’s chest.

The knight went over the edge beneath the four Reachmen.

Around the fire lit, the Reachman whooped and shouted, already praising the gods for their victory.

Meyline’s vision darkened as her attacker tightened the grip on her throat, his breath hot on her face.