Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-28667390-20161220050036/@comment-26446054-20170121155244

Falkreath Hold was cold, much more than Hammerfell. The winds blew into the ranks of five-hundred, who had been traveling for at least a week to meet with the main army of Aurea.

What little grass showed up from the snow was grazed on by the horses, part of light cavalry trained to skirmish and pursue. Alongside them were the finest swordsmen of the west, though there were Nordic warriors present as well.

"Do you believe in Ylgar's prowess, Potama?"

Both a trusted captain and old friend, Shaul At-Tinnin, spoke as his horse walked on calmly, leather giving it a minor amount of protection.

"He has gotten this far. However, any mistake in this campaign will be fatal, so I will treat his leadership with skepticism," she replied, scratching her mount's ears.

"Nords are known to be hasty."

"Indeed they are. Perhaps that is a virtue against slow Imperials."

Shaul smiled and swung his horse around to meet his detachment.

The sun was high in the sky, lending little heat to combat this biting climate. However, the sight of the Nords' encampment was a sight that warmed the girl to no end.

"It seems our Breton friends beat us to it," grinned Potama, letting her horse move at a canter up to a ridge, though she let her relieved troops catch up.

Walking past a settlement of mead drinking beside stories of comrades, Potama found herself at Ylgar's temporary residence.