The Sky God's Offering (Warchief & Rapedoll)

[Irvine]

Castille – A beautiful and fertile kingdom nestled along the coastal shores of the Eighth Sea. Once a settlement of the mighty Kingdom of Avalon, Castille has been her own governing force for several decades now; due, in part, to the barbarous tribes of the new world which they have come to call Eisen. With the help of the Eisen natives, Castille was able to cut her reliance on the mother kingdom entirely, learning to harvest the native crops and hunt the wild beasts of their new world from Eisen’s barbarian tribes. In the years following her liberation from the mother kingdom across the vast waters, Castille began to grow and expand her own influence further into the new world of Eisen. This expansion caused a great strain to fall upon on the virgin kingdom’s relations that had been built with the natives of this new world.

As Castille grew, she claimed more and more of the lands which had belonged to the native tribes. Tensions mounted and hatreds brewed as these once friendly visitors quickly became invaders. Both the native barbarian tribes and Castille, herself, became leery of one another and both began to view the other as treacherous beasts. As a result, skirmishes became common between Castille and Eisen’s natives.

It was on the night of the summer solstice nearly twenty years ago that the contentions between Castille and the surrounding Eisen barbarians erupted into a savage blood feud. Castille had, by this time, pressed deep into the heart of the forests that her founding fathers had built her upon. A small group of her most trusted noble knights stumbled upon a large barbarian settlement with several large, stone pillars in the center of the crude buildings. This was the local barbarians’ shrine where they honored their goddess, Seluna, Mother of the Wilds.

The knights, unaware that this was a place of worship and fearing what may come from allowing such a large settlement to go ignored, attacked the settlement, killed all of Seluna’s shaman, and destroyed the stone pillars that made up the forest mother’s shrine. The barbarian tribes viewed this not only as an act of aggression upon themselves but as a declaration of open warfare.

Castille was now completely alone in the new world. Her people had turned on their former allies and Avalon refused to send aid to her rebellious daughter from across the sea. Despite this, Castille continued to expand. Her people had learned how to survive in this land from the natives which she was now at war with and the barbarians were rarely up to the challenge of facing the kingdom’s highly trained and heavily armed knights. Within ten years following the declaration of open war, Castille had all but eliminated the forest tribes and her borders pressed against the mountain ranges outlining the coastal valley upon which she had been founded.

In present day, Castille still holds all of the lands which she had claimed from the forest tribes. The Valley of Castille, as the land is now called, holds only the ruins of the barbarians who once lived there. The forest tribes are gone now and what is left of their people have long retreated into the mountains to join the much more intimidating mountain barbarian tribes. It is these tribes that now threaten the kingdom’s expansion as her people try to venture into and beyond the mountain ranges that lie along her border.

It is in these mountains that our story begins…



A lone covered caravan trudged along the beaten path that lead into the dangerous mountain region on the outskirts of the small settlement of Pannam. To travel this path alone would have been foolish for your average citizen but this caravan didn’t belong to any common peasant. This lone caravan, led by two beautiful white stallions, was the traveling home of Sir Isenhart, one of Castille’s Royal Knights. Sir Isenhart, along with his loyal squire, Logan, had been charged with the task of traveling to a new settlement that had been established in the foothills outside of the Castille Valley. Joining the Royal Knight and his squire are Elise Chattel and her parents, Alexander and Catherin Chattel.

Though the Chattels are little more than peasants, they were permitted passage on this trip due to the arranged marriage set into place by Alexander. His daughter, the currently fourteen year old Elise was set to wed the currently sixteen year old Logan when she came of age in two years. The two had never met before this trip, which wasn’t uncommon. Most brides in Castille did not meet their husbands until their wedding day but since Isenhart and Logan were likely to be gone much longer than two years, Elise would have two years to get to know her future husband.

He wasn’t unattractive, at least. He was a bit taller than Elise with shoulder length dark brown hair and chocolate eyes. His features were strong and striking, his body tight and toned, and if Alexander’s words meant anything then he was a skilled up-and-coming knight. Furthermore than that, he had seemed like the perfect gentleman since he and Isenhart had come to pick the girl and her family up from their humble home on the outskirts of the farming fields surrounding the capitol

At first, the trip was rather carefree and Elise was allowed to do as she wished, for the most part. She had ridden most of the way through the forests on the back of one of the stallions while Logan rode the other to accompany her. Ever since the caravan had neared the mountain range, however, both Elise and her parents had been confined to the inside of the wagon. Sir Isenhart had told them that it was too dangerous for them to be outside anymore but he hadn’t told them why. Alexander and Catherin knew why, of course, but because of her age there was a small chance that Elise wouldn’t know much about the savage barbarians that surrounded her kingdom. Being so young and growing up near the capitol, she would have never seen one in the flesh.

Much to her protest, Elise had been trapped in that stupid wagon all day now. She hadn’t been allowed to get out for anything except to use the restroom and even then it seemed that she had to hold it in and do so on the knights’ schedules. The gentle rocking and rolling of the caravan had been her only companion as her parents barely spoke a word during their trip. As if that weren’t bad enough, the poor girl couldn’t even see the surrounding landscape due to the canvas draped over the wagon.

The trip had started so nicely and the knights seemed so kind when they first started but now they were strict and rigid. What had changed? Were they expecting some kind of trouble? Did the wagon just… Yes.
Why did the wagon just stop?

 

[Rapedoll]

The Chattels weren't one of the richest families in the settlement, but at just 14 there daughter Elise's beauty would rival that of even the most elite royal families daughters. Her long, spun gold hair, flowed loosely down her back coming to rest at her waist. Her dark blue eyes where so crystal clear they looked look a deep Mediterranean ocean. She was a petite little thing, with delicate features. Her skin looked like peaches and cream.. soft and fragile. Her lips were soft and tender the color of a ripe peach that complimented the soft pink of her cheeks. At barely five foot, Logan towered a good foot over her, and from the first time she laid eyes on him her eyes sparkled.

At first when she heard what her father had done.. given her hand in marriage. She was angry, furious that her father would just give her way to some stranger. But from the moment she first met Logan all her anger and fears seemed to evaporate. For the young teens it seemed like love at first sight. Elise and Logan spent a lot of time riding together, getting to know one and other. Many times the air was filled with there laughter.

The first part of the trip had been wonderful as they got to know one and other. The sky was a clear blue with soft puffy clouds drifting by. The surrounding forest had been rich with deep colors of emerald greens the leaves so crisp and clear she could almost count each one as they passed under the canopy of trees. They crossed clear streams that bubbled with fresh spring water. She felt almost as if she where in a dream.

Unfortunately the dream had to end when she awoke on the forth day she was told that she would have to stay in the carriage. At first she didn't say much... but then after long hour after hour passed they still forbid her from leaving the carriage.. She finally had a tantrum and told the guards that if they didn't let her out of the carriage this minute she would make a mess on the floor. After a few minutes they finally relented and let her releave herself in some bushes. But then the ushered her right back inside the carriage.

She asked to see Logan.. but her request was denied.. Had she done something wrong? Was he mad at her for some reason? She couldn't understand why she was being treated like a prisoner all of a sudden and locked in this stupid carriage. Even her parents weren't being much of a help for they didn't seem to know any more then she did.

After about another hour.. when she thought she was finally going to scream.. she felt the carriage pull to a stop..

 

[Irvine]

Outside of the caravan, the world was silent. The melodious sounds of the songbirds that had filled the air for several days were gone. The horses were still and silent and the two knights were still as far as the Chattel family could hear. It was almost as if the world outside of the covered wagon had ended and Elise’s family was all that was left, huddled together inside of the caravan where they were safe from whatever sorcery had stopped the flowing of time. Perhaps it would have been better if time had actually stopped beyond the canvas walls of the wagon but time marched on as it always had; marching blindly through the calm before the storm.

Moments of painful silence drifted by, dragging out seconds into eternities until the silence was finally shattered. Off to the right of the caravan, a terrible sound echoed through the trees of the mountain foothills. It was a low, guttural roar unlike anything that the Chattel’s would have ever heard before. It wasn’t a great mountain cat and it wasn’t a bear. It sounded much bigger than either. Whatever it was, the horses did not like it.

The instant that the bone chattering cry ripped through the air, the wagon lurched forward with every ounce of force and speed that the twin stallions could muster. Isenhart and Logan’s shouts could be heard from behind the wagon as the large beasts left them behind; frightened out of their beastly little minds. The Chattels were being pulled away from their escort at great speed and the wagon clattered and shook around them as the horses carried them over the rocky road at speeds that could not be safe by any means.

Fearing that his family might be thrown from the rocking caravan, Alexander instinctively reached out to grab his wife with one arm and his daughter in the other. It was an understandable fear seeing as their belongings were being tossed around the carriage and some of their things were already flying out of the sides of the wooden, canvas-covered cart.

 

[Rapedoll]

Opening her mouth, Elise started to ask her father what was happening. But before her lips could utter a sound her father hushed her lips while he listened to see if he could hear anything from outside.
Elise found herself holding her breath.. the silence for some reason sent shivers of terror through the young girl.

The echoing rawer was accompanied by the sound of Elise's screams sounding almost as one. In shock and fright, she jumped ... eyes wild, as she looked from her mother to her father. The carriage jerked and bounced, sending the family scattering around inside. The horses whined and bucked, sending the carriage careening through the forest in a death defying race.

Elise heard Logan yelling.. the sound coming from behind the carriage. Throwing herself against the back of the carriage her fists banging on the solid wall of the coach she screamed his name just before she was violently thrown to the other side of the carriage.. Blinding pain ripped through her side as she landed against the hard wooden bench on the other side of the carriage and slumped to the floor.. Then she found herself being scooped up off the floor and into her fathers strong arms.

"Daddyyyy! Whatsssssss happeningg!!!"

 

[Irvine]

The stallions showed no sign of slowing down over the next several minutes as they hauled the carriage down the bumpy and washed-out road as fast as their legs would carry them. The stability of the cart only got worse as it was pulled over the rough road at such high speeds. It was an older carriage, made entirely of wood and canvas; completely unsuited for the abuse which it was now enduring from the road. Considering that the only iron parts to be found on the old wagon were the bolts, latches, and fasteners, it was holding up much better than it should have. Isenhart had clearly kept very good care of the large hunk of wood.

Unfortunately for the Chattels, there is only so much abuse that any object can take before it gives way, regardless of the material from which it is made or the care that it is given. When the wagon was drug over a particularly bad spot in the road, there was a load cracking sound from beneath as the axel snapped in two. The carriage, unsupported by the broken axel, went crashing to the ground below. The Chattels were jostled by the impact of the moving wagon falling to the ground but their ride wasn’t over quite yet. Backed by the momentum of the large wooden cart, the horses continued to onward. Their charge was slowed by the now wheel-less carriage but it would take more than a broken axel to stop two determined work steeds.

With another loud snap, the wagon stopped dead and the Chattel’s terrifying ride had finally come to an end. The leather straps that connected the horses to the yolk poles gave way, allowing the horses to free themselves from the broken cart. The momentum left over from the cart’s sudden stop sent the three peasants flying across the cart and into the opposite wall. The impact would have easily been enough to knock them out cold if they collided with the side of the wagon the wrong way.

The world outside of the shattered wagon was silent again. Isenhart and Logan had been left far down the road and the horses had charged ahead, still terrified of whatever they had seen and heard. Even if they were alone now in potentially dangerous territory on the outskirts of their kingdom, at least the Chattels were together and they were alive. Judging by the sound that had caused the horses such a scare, that might very well be more than what could be said about the knight and his squire. They could have easily handled themselves against a great mountain cat but to expect them to make it out of a run in with a bear unscratched was probably asking too much. Of course, whatever that had been back there, it had sounded larger than even a bear.

 

[Rapedoll]

When the dust finally settled everything was quiet, except for the sound of Elise softly weeping. There was a huge crack on the floor of the carriage . Most likely caused when the carriage had hit a rock. Elise sat up.. she had been thrown to the floor along with her mother and father, but neither parent was moving. Crawling over to her mother.. her mother looked ghostly pale. A thin trickle of blood was coming from her mouth and nose. When Elise picked up her mothers hand it felt cool to the touch and dropped limply back down onto the floor. She couldn't tell if her mother was still alive or not.. Elise felt tears burning in the back of her eyes. Then she crawled over to her father.. He was unconscious but still breathing.. His breathing was shallow and ragged like he was struggling for each breath, but Elise couldn't see any visible wounds on his body.

Elise sat there holding her fathers head in her lap for what seemed like hours but might have only been minutes. In the hope that Logan or Sir Isenhart would find them. But after a few moments she felt like she needed to do something. Her mother still hadn't moved .. and her fathers breathing was becoming shallower and shallower. ..

Stepping from the carriage she found a small stream a few feet away from where the carriage had stopped. Reaching down she tore off a piece of her skirt and soaked it in the water. Going back to the carriage she placed the wet rag over her fathers forehead. It was starting to get dark ... and the sounds of the forest kept pressing in all around her. She was terrified that what ever they had heard that spooked the horses was still out there somewhere in the forest. ..

 

[Irvine]

If the young girl had bothered to travel back and inspect the road where the axel had finally broken then she would have discovered that there had been ruts dug across the dirt road. The Chattels had fallen victim to a trap that someone or something had set here along the road and Elise was now being watched from the cover of the trees on the side of the road opposite the stream from which she was collecting water. Of course, it was quite understandable that her attention to the world around her was somewhat hazed given the circumstances. Her mother might well be dead and her father didn’t seem to be doing so well either. Elise had might as well been alone.

It took Elise’s onlooker only a moment to size up the situation which his trap had created. As far as he could tell, the only passenger that had still been in the wagon at this point was a little girl. Knowing that there was nothing here to which he would need to heed caution to, the onlooker stepped from the tree line and into the road not twenty feet in front of the wagon.

Fortunately for Elise, the being that had been watching her was human and not whatever had frightened the horses. Unfortunately for Elise, he was a mountain barbarian tribesman. The man now standing in front of the wagon would have easily been the largest man that Elise had ever seen. His frame was every bit of seven feet and some odd inches in height and his arms were as thick as a bear’s leg. This man dwarfed Elise’s five foot frame in every way. He wore brown pants and boots made of some kind on animal hide; likely deer by the looks of it. Another kind of grey hide was wrapped around his ankles and draped around his waist, possibly for the purposes of some kind of barbarian fashion. There was a tanned leather strap across his chest, holding a studded shoulder plate on his left shoulder. A bracer made of the same hardened leather with sharpened bones imbedded into it decorated his left wrist and forearm. Draped around his neck was a necklace made of battle trophies; everything from ogre teeth to bear claws with a Royal Knight’s medallion front and center. Strapped across his back was a large sword; one of the Royal Knighthood’s tempered and runed blades.

Thick, short brown hair covered the figure’s chest, arms, and jaw. The hair topping his head was the same rich brown but was long; falling down to his mid-torso. His long locks were braided into three clean tails; one falling down his back and the other two falling over each shoulder. His eyes, as if defying every other rippling feature about him, were the softest and gentlest blue.

“Lasta tani sysla, khingar,” the figure shouted in a commanding tone as he began to approach the wagon which the little blonde peasant girl had retreated back into. He was speaking in the native tongue of the barbarian tribes. Elise would not have been able to make sense of anything that he’d just said but it didn’t sound like he was in much of a mood for games.

 

[Rapedoll]

It had grown pitch black as darkness had settled in the forest... Every little sound made Elise jump and look around in the dark.. Is it any wonder that she had to clamp a hand over her mouth to keep from screaming when she heard the resounding voice from just outside the carriage.

"Come on daddy wake up." The panicked girl shook her father. But it had been quite a while since the last time she heard her father struggle for breath, and now he just lay there quiet and unmoving.

Maybe if she was just real quiet who ever it was outside might just leave. She tried to tell herself.. Unfortunately no matter how much she wanted to she couldn't bring herself to believe that.

 

[Irvine]

“Osric maela lasta tani sysla, khingar,” the barbarian shouted again as he neared the disheveled cart. His voice sounded irritated now as if it angered him that this little girl had not given him the response that he had wanted. That assumption wouldn’t have been far off of the truth. This barbarian was Osric, the mightiest warrior from his tribe. He, himself, answered only to his warchief and the tribe’s eldest of shaman. The lesser warriors of the tribe knelt before him in the training fields and cheered when he stepped into the mead hall. The tribe’s women swooned in his shadow and honored every command that he gave them. This girl, however, dared to hide from him. He was not stupid. He had seen her with his own two eyes. He knew that she was there in that wagon.

The gait of Osric’s massive form covered the ground between him and the wagon with only a handful of steps. As he stood next to the wagon, nearly as tall as it had been even when it had a working set of wheels and axel, a guttural growl rumbled from his throat. How dare this child? She should be groveling at his feet and begging for mercy in that twisted demon tongue of hers. She should be offering herself to him; promising services of labor and flesh in exchange for her life. It was true that Osric wouldn’t understand a word of her pleas but it was the symbolism of the act that mattered to the stoic native brute.

“Lasta tani sysla khingar!” Now there could have been no mistaking it. The man-beast outside of the wagon was angry and if that weren’t enough it sounded like he was standing just outside of that thin canvas curtain. The wagon would not protect Elise. If this barbarian was so inclined then he could dismantle a solid wooden wagon with his bare hands and this pile of wreckage wasn’t even a solid wagon. It was a carriage shell with a course sheet draped over it and nailed into place.

 

[Rapedoll]

This time when the barbarian spoke again she did scream. For the fist time in her short 14 years her parents where unable to help her. She was as good as alone, and helpless. And whoever was outside sounded big... real big, and angry! Inside the carriage it was pitch dark.. she huddled inside into one corner.

Should she try to get out? Perhaps if she jumped from the door real quick she could take off running before what ever was out there had a chance to grab her.. And maybe if she ran back down the road she could find Logan. What the hell happened.. She thought she was supposed to be safe.. didn't her father tell her she had nothing to worry about.. Well that voice outside sure didn't sound like nothing!

In the dark interior of the carriage she got to her feet .. shaking. In the darkness she tripped over something and stumbled ... Oh good going Elise, so much for trying to be quiet...

She moved over to the flap that covered the door. Took a deep breath and jumped out the door.. But when she jumped she landed less then a foot away from Osric. She stumbled and tripped over her own feet landing hard on her ass... Sitting sprawled out on the ground looking up at Osric he seemed like a giant. She tried to crawl back words to get away from this giant that stood above her looking down.

 

[Irvine]

Though Osric wasn’t exactly stupid in the traditional sense of the word, it wouldn’t have been accurate to call him intelligent either. Osric was simple and uncouth, for a lack of better words. When Elise leapt from the carriage and ended up on her ass before him, a toothy grin overtook his features and his shifted his posture to stand tall and proud with his chest out. To him, the girl was now groveling. Though she was not kneeling, she was still on the ground before him which was still a show of submission either way.

His mood seemed to snap right back to angry when the little blonde began to push herself backward to try and get away from him. She belonged in his shadow. She should feel privileged to grovel at his as the women back in the village did. His right hand shot up and over his shoulder with speed that should not have been possible for someone of his size. When that massive hand came flying back down, it brought that stolen rune blade with it and shoved the tempered steel into Elise’s face. The razor tip of the sword was only inches from the tip of Elise’s nose.

“Osric maela dereji,” the moan bellowed with an overbearing tone. His eyes were locked on Elise’s, scanning her blue eyes that seemed to mirror his own, reflecting back at him the fear that he was incapable of feeling. Though Osric knew that this girl was from the colonies of the invaders and that she would not be able to understand him, it did not prevent him from barking his commands at her. Perhaps he thought that if he pressed his will against hers that she would break under the pressure and grovel before him.

“Maela nefta,” he spoke again in a slightly less angry tone. He might have sounded calmer all of a sudden but that blade didn’t move from the girl’s face and those stone-hard blue eyes didn’t drift from their stare into Elise’s own softer orbs. Whatever the barbarian wanted from her, he’d made it quite clear that he wasn’t afraid to kill her if he didn’t get it.

 

[Rapedoll]

Elise answered Osric's bellows with her own screams, as she cringed back from the point of the blade that waved a mere few inches from her face. She felt her fear build, thought 'this is it, I've had it'.

In those few brief seconds she thought of her family, her future, and Logan. Fear pulsed through her veins, burning through her like a fever, burned so fiercely it was impossible to contain her trembling. She didn't dare move another inch as she looked up at the huge man that hovered over her brandishing his sword in front of the little girl.

 

[Irvine]

That look of pride and satisfaction returned to the savage barbarian’s features when Elise screamed for her life. Screaming seemed to be all that these invaders did when faced with the mountain tribe’s behemoth warriors and it was a sound that Osric had come to enjoy. He knew that it was a sound of mortal terror, one of the emotions that he enjoyed forcing into the minds of these tiny, fragile invaders. How these people ever conquered the forest tribes was a mystery to Osric and his kin but then again, the mountain tribes tended to be larger and hardier than their lowland brethren.

Despite the intense terror that had taken over the young girl’s being, the Royal Knighthood battle trophies that adorned this behemoth’s neck, and the blade that was still only inches from being plunged into her pretty face, Elise was quite lucky that it was Osric’s trap that her cart had fallen into. Well, considering that her parents had probably been killed by blunt force trauma in the crash, she wasn’t all that lucky, but relatively speaking she could have been in a worse situation. Osric was a warrior who lived for the thrill of combat and it wasn’t in his character to strike down an opponent who wouldn’t strike back. Furthermore, he wasn’t able to understand the girl’s demon tongue and he knew that she could not understand the language of the Eisen natives. His warchief and his tribe’s elder shaman, however, were able to speak her twisted dialect.

Instead of killing the invaders who were not a threat to his kin, Osric would often bring them back to his village and present them to the tribe’s demon-tongued warchief. It was not Osric’s place to decide this girl’s fate. She was young and innocent. She should not be made to suffer for the sins of her ancestors but she could also not be allowed to return to her own tribe and strengthen them as she grew. The warchief would decide the girl’s fate, not Osric. There were many demon-tongued ‘slaves’ that belonged to the village already and because of them, their tribe had prospered. The weak male slaves worked the fields and the strong male slaves worked the mines. The females were usually made to serve as breeders; a great honor in his village as the tribe would die without them.

Slowly, the sword was drawn away from the girl’s face and returned to its sheath on the barbarian’s back. Fear was a powerful motivator but it could also drive a mouse to fight against the strongest of predators if backed into a corner. Osric had made his point well enough. Trying to press her further could only have negative consequences and force the behemoth to leave his little blonde mouse dead in the road.

 

[Rapedoll]

Although he withdrew his sword did little to relieve Elise fear. Osric was easily twice the size of any man she had ever seen. Larger then even the bravest and most feared knight in her whole village.

When the giant of a man stepped back for a moment she still seemed frozen in place ... To frightened of the huge barbarian to even move. When he stopped yelling at her, she also had stopped screaming. Now she wasn't sure what he wanted her to do. He had put his sword away, so she didn't think he was going to kill her. Neater did she think he was going to be helping her.

Again he said something to her in his strange savage tongue. The way he moved his head made her think that he might want her to stand up. Slowly she pulled herself up and got to her feet. Taking care to move slowly so as not to upset this huge savage anymore then he already was.

It seemed that standing up didn't help to alleviate her fears. If anything it just accentuated even more how small she was next to this giant barbarian while his shadow seemed to dwarf her. As she stood she wobbled and yelped, her hands going out to the side trying to catch her balance, trying to put her weight on her foot.. It seemed that she had fared well during the crash of the carriage, only to have sprained her ankle when she had leaped from the carriage.

 

[Irvine]

Once the little blonde girl had managed to win her struggle against her own shaking legs and had brought herself to her feet, Osric reached out for her. With the difference in their heights and the length of his arm, it didn’t take much for him to reach over-top of the girl’s head and grab her by the back collar of her gown. Moments later, the barbarian began to lift the blonde girl’s small frame up by her gown. The stress of being made to support the girl’s frame made the silk-like cloth begin to stretch and tear around the collar and sleeves but fortunately for Elise, she was sat back down before any notable damage had been done to her garments.

The barbarian had sat the girl back down atop his shoulders, straddling the back of his head with one leg falling over each of his shoulders along with the front two of his three braids. At the very least, he didn’t seem like he was going to kill her. If he wanted her blood then why wouldn’t he just strike her down here and take whatever he wanted from the caravan?

Once the girl was on his shoulders, Osric turned away from the wagon and began to make his way back toward the trees from where he had come. It was never the caravan itself that interested the barbarian, but the passengers that it held. His tribe had more treasures from Castille than it knew what to do with but human prizes were always something that the mountain barbarians could make use of. The girl’s parents, if they were even alive, were saved from the barbarian’s goals from their unconscious state. They had never gotten out of the wagon after the crash so Osric had not seen them and any slave worth taking back to the village would have crawled out of the carriage after a crash like that. Injured slaves would be only a burden to the tribe, after all.

 

[Rapedoll]

With little more then a whimper she clung to her dress as her feet kicked in the air while the barbarian lifted her off the ground. What was once her favorite white satin dress was now dirty from her tumble on the ground, and bulging at the seams showing rips in several places. She supposed she should be happy that she was still alive, but she couldn't help thinking about her parents that lay in the carriage. She didn't know if they where still alive or dead, but she had a feeling that if the barbarian saw them he just might kill them. She decided that it would be better if she didn't put up much of a fuss, at least until she found out what this giants intentions where. She kept telling herself that Logan and Sir Isenhart would come to rescue her, all she had to do was stay calm .

"aggg" she gasped when he started walking into the forest ... she wrapped her small arms around the big brutes shoulders holding on so she wouldn't fall off. Osric carried her deeper into the forest.. It was so dark she had to strain to see what was in front of them. But for his size he was remarkably sure footed. She realized that they where slowly going up hill higher and higher into the mountains. The path they found themselves on seemed to slant at a ridiculous angle, it reared to steep and narrowed so sharply she was surprised how easily he maneuvered the steep terrain. At times she found herself growing dizzy and had to close her eyes.

 

[Irvine]

There was a certain grace about this large man as he moved through the forest and up the mountain; a grace that something of his size just simply should not have had. His speed was steady and his strides were long. The terrain, even at its steepest with densely overgrown underbrush, never seemed to slow the behemoth man’s movements one bit. Even if Elise had not sprung her ankle when she leaped from the wagon, she would have never been able to outrun this giant if he were to burst into a sprint after her on the relatively flat open road.

For the better part of three hours, the giant carried the girl through the rocky, forested terrain of the mountain. Dark had set in long ago and though the girl could not see twenty feet in front of her, Osric did not seem hindered in the slightest by the lack of light. Even in the darkness of the night, his stride was long and steady and his pace was much faster than Elise could hope to travel in this terrain in the dead of night. Many of Castille’s scholars had surmised long ago that the Eisen barbarians’ eyes had developed to perceive the world around them in the most unforgiving of low-light conditions though this was only partially correct. Osric’s vision suffered in this blackness, just as Elise’s did, but not nearly as severely.

At last, after hours of weaving through dense forest and skirting steep ledges along the mountainside, Osric was standing on a ledge overlooking a large basin near the peak of the mountain. There, in the natural basin created by the landscape, was the village from which Osric hailed. Burning like a beacon in the center of the basin was a large bonfire; around which many figures could be seen circling and dancing. Through the illuminating light of the fire, many buildings could be seen. The village was enormous for such a tribe of people; maybe even larger than many of Castille’s established settlements.

“Heima,” Osric muttered as he looked out across the village of his birth. It was an understandable lapse in memory for the simple brute who had forgotten that his cargo could not understand him. This wasn’t always the case, of course. Not all of the barbarian tribes got along with one another and sometimes it was young barbarian whom Osric was hauling back. Captured rival tribesman, however, were almost always children. A tribe’s adults would always fight back and would force Osric to slay them.

 

[Rapedoll]

Slowly her head wobbled back and forth.. Her cheek coming to rest on top of the huge giants head ... She tried to force herself to keep her eyes open. Feeling exhausted, her eyes growing heavy, her energy failing.

It was awhile before she became conscious of the fact that Osric had stopped at the crest of a hill. Looking down at the ground below she realized how high up she was and murmured a slight cry from atop Osric shoulders. And there below them where the walls of a great village. The walls of a dark curtain which where the mountains on the other side of the village. And there in the middle was the glow of a huge bonfire that cast its radiance into the nighttime sky.

It looked like a huge fortress .. One that Osric had no difficulty gaining admittance through the gates as they opened to admit the barbarian with his little prize. Entering, heading towards the center of the village Elise noticed that the village seemed busy even at this late at night. At every turn there seemed to be wagons and pack mules that the barbarians had raided from other villages.
There where cattle being slaughtered right out in the open, many of the people engaged in open barter before the blood even had a chance to seep into the dirt.
And people too where being offered for purchase, as much a commodity as spices or silks might be in the civilized world. It seemed that everything in this strange world could be bought for a price. ...

Elise found herself clinging to the huge barbarian .. this village scared her more then the man had when he held the sword on her.

 

[Irvine]

The buildings of this barbaric mountain town were made of a collection of materials including thatch, logs, stones, and bricks that had been pillaged from Castille; all held together by a mud plaster that grew hard as rock when it dried. Though primitive, the buildings of the mountain tribe barbarians were strong, sturdy, and capable of handling the fierce weather conditions of their elevation. Furthermore, the thatch made for fantastic insulation, making their homes livable even in the dead of winter. It would seem that the thieving brutes were no strangers to ingenuity and advancement.

As the two moved through the large, active town it would become apparent that the one advancement that would be lost on these people would be currency. Gold and silver meant next to nothing to the mountain tribes of barbarians. True, the metals were attractive enough but both metals were soft and brittle in comparison to the iron that was common throughout the mountain range surrounding Castille. Instead, the barbarians used a simple barter system; trading what they had for what they wanted. A family with fertile fields and excess food but little help with their expanse of land might trade food for a slave or the aid of their fellow tribesmen. Though Castille viewed the barbarian’s bartering system to be outdated and savage, the barbarians viewed gold currency as frivolous. It was one of several cultural barriers that had not been broken back when they two peoples viewed one another as neighbors.

On Osric’s way to his destination, he carried the little blonde past the massive fire that stood in the center of the village. As they passed the bonfire, Elise could get a much better view of what exactly had been happening in the heart of the village. All of the dancers that she had seen before were men wearing hide pants and tribal headdresses resembling animals. The dancers were just as large as Osric in the terms of build though none of them were quite as tall; averaging around six and one half feet. Osric stood another foot above the tallest dancer.

Once the glow of the fire was behind them, their destination would become clear. Nestled into a nook along the mountain wall was a large building made primarily of logs and the barbarians’ mud cement. There were two enormous doors made out of solid wood looming over the pair as they approached the building. They were easily ten feet in height with a fifteen foot wide opening between the two of them. Inside, the sounds of cheering and singing could be heard through the closed doors.

 

[Rapedoll]

As savage and primal as the village and it's people seemed, there was also an air of orderliness. There where men, other warriors, gathered round sharing food and ale.. woman carrying large trays of food and drinks. Loud laughter and music filled the air.

Elise's eyes where wide taking in all the sights and sounds. And then they walked out of the center ... slowly the sounds started to fade away. Soon the streets turned quiet with only an occasional flicker of a torch that was left burning to show the way here and there.

Towards the back of the village she saw a huge building as the made there way across towards the huge doors. She could tell this building was different then the rest by the size of the doors and the intricate carvings that flanked the doorway. It was obvious that who ever had carved these doors had taken a lot of pride in what he was doing. Sounds started drifting out from the building.. growing louder and louder the closer they came. The louder the noise grew the more nervous she became.. before they had reached the door she had started squirming and tugging on Osric. She did not want to go in there.. and she as much told him that.. But either he didn't hear her or he didn't understand her because he didn't seem like he was going to stop.

 

[Irvine]

Osric had actually gotten the general message of what the girl was saying by the way she squirmed atop his massive shoulders and tugged at him but she was going inside whether she liked it or not. On this, the night of the full moon, the village held a feast. The full moon was a time of celebration to the mountain tribes of barbarians, most of whom felt a strong connection to the skies, the stars, and the solar and lunar events. This was because most of the mountain tribes revered Magni, Father of the Heavens over the other deities just as the forest tribes had revered the Mother of the Wilds, Seluna. With celebration spread thick over the village and a feast being held in the massive mead hall, this building was the only place that one would find the tribe’s warchief this night and he is the one whom this girl must be brought to.

As the giant man approached the doors, he put his hands out to press them against the giant slabs of wood. With apparent ease, he pushed his way passed them as stepped into the mead hall. The mead hall was even bigger inside than it appeared to be on the outside. Torches lined the walls, giving the building an almost cave-like appearance with their fiery glow. Two lines of massive wooden tables ran from the front of the rectangular hall to the back, each with a bench lining either side. The benches were full of men and women who were feasting, drinking, singing, and cheering. Dancers and serving wenches moved through the crowed with even more grace than Osric had used moving through the forest.

Along the back wall was a massive chair made of wood and decorated with carved bone. In that chair sat Eirik the Warlord, the tribe’s warchief. At around six feet in height, Eirik was actually rather short when compared to most of the tribe’s warriors but that had never stopped him from striking fear into even Osric’s heart. Being shorter than the vast majority of the tribe’s warriors, the warchief was not quite as built though he would still shame most Royal Knights. A loincloth made of a combination of red cloth that had been pillaged from Castille and thick animal fur hung around his waist; held there by a metal band. Boots of the same make covered his feet and a cape of the same hung around his neck, held there by a necklace of bones and skulls of small animals.

His hair was brown, like Osric’s, but it wasn’t quite as long and it hung freely around his shoulders. His eyes, once one was close enough to see them, were a dark brown; appearing black in poor light conditions such as these. Tribal tattoos decorated the left sides of his face and torso, running down his arm.

As Osric began to move into the mead hall, it was toward this man that he was moving. Many of the people who were feasting stopped to take note of who it was that had entered the hall, ushering from them a thunderous cheer at the sight of their mightiest warrior returning from his latest trek down the mountain, with a delicious looking little treat no less.

 

[Rapedoll]

You would have thought somebody had poured ice on the girl the way Elise was trembling. Her deep blue eyes looked around in wonder at the sights and sounds that filled the great hall. There where dancers dressed in ivory-colored firs , there movements where so fluid that there limbs might have been no more then wisps of smoke. Fire-eaters, jugglers and tumblers entertained the crowd. And everywhere there was such a variety of music and song. The tables where lined with with huge displays of food, there scents mingled through the air.

And then she noticed the huge chair made of bones sitting in a place of prominences where it had an over view of the entire room. And still .. the man that sat upon that chair.. seemed to be watching there advance with interest. She cast a worried glance as they drew nearer. The way his eyes stared at her troubled her but she had little time to dwell on his interest as the drew nearer.

 

[Irvine]

“Yuu hafa Osric irakenda heima? Osric irakenda quiraja torliin kholboo,” the man sitting upon the throne bellowed as the giant and his little blonde prize neared the wood and bone throne. His voice rang through the hall and commanded order among the chaos. The dangers all stopped and turned to observe the impending trial, as did the serving wenches and the feasters. Outsiders of the tribe were not permitted in the mead hall; it was a law that Eirik’s ancestors had put into place upon the founding of the village. It was a law that, until now, had never once been broken in the history of the tribe’s existence.

Once order had spread through the great hall, the man on the throne rose to his feet and a deadly silence settled over the barbarians. Osric, the tribes most decorated berserker, had broken the tribes oldest and most sacred law. He had brought an outsider into the hall of feasts, and one of the fragile invaders at that. He had, in their beliefs, brought a ten-year curse upon the tribe; a curse that could only be lifted by the blessing of Magni, Father of the Heavens, and the chief deity of the mountain barbarian tribes.

“Kona einn ali qojar mori koske,” Osric answered with a quieter, submissive tone as he neared the throne. The large man knelt once he was close to his comparatively smaller warchief and rolled his shoulders in an attempt to give the blonde and unspoken command to dismount from him. Could this really be the same giant that had ambushed the wagon? Certainly someone of his size would not have trouble defending himself against this other man who, though still large, was so much smaller than the behemoth.

The warchief’s brown eyes, appearing black in the cave-like lighting, turned their glare from Osric to the little blonde. The hushed sound of whispers erupted throughout the hall. All of those in attendance were eager to see how this situation would be handled by their young and still inexperienced warchief. Eirik’s father had passed from illness only two moons ago and had turned the mantle of warchief over to his only son who had proven a fierce warrior. Though the other warriors of the tribe respected his ferocity in battle, the tribe’s shaman and elders had yet to accept someone so young as their warchief until he proved as wise as he was savage.

 

[Rapedoll]

She tensed , ready to offer some futile resistance. As Osric jestered for her to get climb down from his shoulders. Right now she felt safer with this barbarian, Osric, then she did getting down facing this new savage.

In all her nativity she didn't recognize this new man as a tribal chef. Then man, although, big and strong by her standards, still seemed rather young to be a village elder. And why was Osric kneeling before him? The way this new savage was speaking to Osric made her nervous.

She slowly climbed down and got to her feet. She noticed others where starting to gather around the three of them. All eyes seemed to be on them. Elise was trying hard to conceal her tremors. Casting a side glance at Osric she decided she should do what he was doing .. So slowly she got to her knees still keeping a close eye on this new savage.

 

[Irvine]

With the frail invaders pushing their way out of the forested valley once belonging to the forest tribes and into the mountains, the curse that this child had brought with her into the hall would devastate the tribe. It would cause their homes to become brittle and crumble. It would cause their crops to with and die in even the best of conditions. It would spread a plague through the tribe and kill their mightiest warriors and their women. In ten years time, the outsider’s curse could wipe out an entire village with ease. According to legend, it was this curse that caused the founding of this very village when the founders were forced to flee from their previous village and rebuild here in this basin to escape its wrath.

Eirik would need to choose his course of action here carefully or his village would crumble around him and die out. The eyes of the entire village were upon him, metaphorically speaking. His actions over the next several minutes would decide the fate of his tribe and would make or break the respect of the tribe’s elders and shaman. He knew that Osric would need to be disciplined for his part in bringing the curse to their doorsteps but all of the tribe respected the warrior behemoth. Something would need to be done about this girl as well and the warchief doubted that the elders would settle for anything less than execution. Then, of course, there was the matter of Magni’s blessing. If the tribe could not repent for this desecration then nothing else that Eirik could do would matter.

“Daraa Osric, margaash ulzii sekt,” the warchief grunted as he waved his hand dismissively toward the giant that had brought Elise to this place. Without so much as another word, Osric rose to his feet, turned back toward the door, and began to move back through the hall. Osric had forgotten about the clutches of the outsider’s curse. He rarely attended the feasts in the great hall as it was, preferring to spend the nights of the full moon bartering off his services and drinking at the fire with a woman under each arm.

Once Osric was on his way out the door, the smaller savage turned his attention back to the little blonde and a wicked little smirk spread across his lips. “Osric speaks your strange tale,” the man spoke in Castille’s tongue. His speech was clear, though it didn’t sound like he was entirely fluent in the language. Still, Elise could understand him. Surely, that had to feel like a god-send to the small girl.