Gydgar

Faerhild laid on a bed once owned by someone else. The pain prevented her from actually falling asleep, aside for the moments when the fever stole her consciousness. However this was not one of those blissful moments.  

No. She laid awake, even if her eyes were shut in her plan of pretending sleep. She did not wish to talk with the man who laid wounded on the bed next to her.

Aeschere charged the first orc with an insane fury. He bashed his face with his shield, knocking him out of his way. He then clashed his sword with the other orc, breaking his sword in half and slashing his flesh. He swings and bashes as the orcs throw themselves against him, only to be hewn aside with missing limbs and gushing blood.

Faerhild charged against one of the orcs, bashing him with her shield, to block him from seeing her incoming sword that went to study his black guts.

The company of warriors was lead deeper within the mountains, through a small ravine. By the path that Faerhild unfailingly followed ran a small stream. Soon though the road ahead would become steep, requiring to climb up the frozen now formations of the rocks. It's been a good six hours of hiking and climbing up the mountain until the company made it to the top of the mountain. No sun would shine and the sky was grey, it should be noon soon. As you peek around the last of the trees a wide plateau is revealed in front of you.

A winding path laid ahead of the band of Eorlings, following the route to a frozen now little stream. One could not see much of its final destination but it would take them up hill and toward the mountain. Recently fallen snow has made passage even more difficult, their steps more unsure, as unstable and treacherous terrain awaits hiding under a piles of pure white snow. Trails or tracks were also covered under the snow.

FORLAW / JAIL / NIGHT

''They'll come.'' spoke the fiery-haired man, named Hondscioh, with a solemn air about him.

''They will.'' answered the leader of the war-band, man known in times son of Régn.

Hondscioh stared toward the gates, waiting for a sign and he turned, squeezing Régnwald's shoulder before he walked to his corner.

​Faerhild stepped down the stairs with heavy feet, halting to stand in front of the bars. She stared through them at the shadows of the jail for a long while, silent in her thoughts. Although eventually she would speak with a loud enough voice, "Could you come closer? I need a word with each of you."

Gydgar peered from his corner, "Come to hear my voice again is it?" He grinned, before reaching to one of the bars and pulling himself upright with a yawn and a rub of his hands.

Wynwyn swallowed as she stepped inside, her wide eyes bent on the guard who seemed awfully unfriendly by nature. She shuffled on the steps, gradually ascending them. She squinted about the dark jail, appearing more than afraid of her surroundings, ironically appearing like a captured small animal, even if she was the one who stood free.

FORLAW / JAIL / DAY

​Zaiweyn entered the jail, eventually, after disarming herself to the guards and leaving all suspicious items to their care. Carrying nothing but her clothes, the woman approached the bars, just staring at the folk inside.

Gydgar sat on top one of the barrels he had tipped over to create a seat, tapping his boot against the metal rim circling the wood with a smile on his face. His knuckles were still a bit bloody from the beating he had given to Seaxwyrd.