The Stone Hills. Winter...
The wyvern lands, it's the first of the patrol to arrive. It flew over the village late yesterday afternoon, then again just after dawn this morning. Before the order was given from camp that it, and it's riders were to finally check out the village.
The lead rider and the eight guards on the wyvern get off and stand near it as it squawks in agitation, before settling down on its haunches.
The guards are waiting for the rest of the patrol who are on horseback, who should be here soon. Though they know they could wait for some time, as both those on horse, and on foot, haven't exactly been moving all that fast as the army of justifier Marsille has made it's way through the foothills towards the mountains proper of the Stone Hills.
As a blustery and cold wind blows across the small lake between the hill to the east, and the village. The guards in the service of one of the city of Falnic's leaders, don't go and explore the village.
For though it looks empty from the air, both yesterday afternoon, and again this morning. The army of the sorcerer Marsille has learnt the hard way that passing through what looks like an empty town or village, has led to more than a few casualties and fatalities as they've waged war upon the dwarven clans of the Stone Hills this winter.
That's why the guards from the coastal city of Falnic are waiting beside the wyvern, for the rest of the patrol on horseback, who are coming up the road, that's a few hundred yards to the west of the village.
A number of the guards stomp their booted feet, and swing their arms around to keep warm in the cold wind that's blowing, some of them hunker down in the lee of the wyvern. Which would rather be in the warm sands of the coastline in southern Belinswae, than be here in the foothills of the Stone Hills, even though both cold or hot weather doesn't effect them much like it does to people.
The lead rider paces back and forth near his flying steed, looking to the village to the track that leads to the nearby trade road, and back to the village again. Hoping that the rest of the patrol turns up soon, and that it's the type of patrol he and the guards with him, actually want to see arrive, and with good reason.
After pacing back and forth for a little while longer, as well as look at the village they've landed near, and the track from it to the road that's just out of view a few hundred yards away. The lead rider makes his way over to the guard standing away from the others, he's a scout, and one of the better one's in the army of justifier Marsille.
"Anything?" quietly asks the lead rider who controls the wyvern, which has just tucked it's head under one of it's wings, to get it out of the blustery wind that's blowing this morning.
"Doesn't look like anything" says the scout who is looking carefully at the village, which according to the maps of the area, is the last one inhabited by the free folk, before the lines of boundary of the clanhold named Kraelin.
"Then again so did some of those other villages" quietly says the scout, and man in his thirties, who wears a thick winter cloak over leather armour "Until those poor bastards who found themselves injured or dead in those traps" adds the scout, who like most men from Belinswae, is rather short for a human, for you won't find many from the region who top six foot in height, let alone any taller.
"Some of those bastards deserved what they got" quietly says the lead rider, the scout looks quickly over at the other guards, making sure none of them overheard that. The strong wind blowing this morning gives him reassurance that it's difficult to be overheard.
The scout then quietly says "True" he quickly follows that up with "Wyvern rider or not, don't let an officer hear you say something like that". "I won't" quietly says the lead rider, who just voiced an opinion that he and the rest of the guards with them think. Infact quite a lot in the army of the sorcerer Marsille think the same. Those guards who have been in his service for some time.
"Least we don't serve in justifier Kaellin's army" says the scout, who in his position, has had more contact with the armies of the justifiers of Belinswae, than others have so far this winter in the campaign against the dwarven clans of the Stone Hills.
"He's having real problems with them" says the scout who continues with "Too many of them in his army I've heard tell". The wyvern rider nods in understanding and agreement, he's just about to say something else on the subject, when the scout looks in the direction of the nearby road, and he quickly says "Think that's horses approaching".
Trying to listen over the blowing wind, the lead rider glances over at the wyvern, which has popped it's head out from beneath it's right wing, and is looking in the direction of the paved road that winds through the foothills. The large winged creature lets out a squawk, and the lead rider nods, then tells the scout "Friendlies".
The scout who has raised his stringed bow, and has an arrow in hand, returns the shaft to his quiver when they see horsemen come into view along the trail from the nearby road a few moments later.
Both the scout and the lead wyvern rider look carefully at the approaching horsemen, then the wyvern rider lets out a sigh of relief, then he quietly says "Not a one among them". The scout nods in agreement, he too is relieved when he sees that all the mounted guards, many of whom he knows, are all veterans in the army of justifier Marsille.
Even the youngest one amongst them has been in the army of the sorcerer from Falnic for at least six months. Which is a hell of a lot better than anyone who is serving in the justifier's army since the start of winter when the war broke out.
The subaltern in charge of the mounted guards holds up a hand in greeting as he and the rest of the patrol rein up. "Moved in and checked it out at all?" asks the officer with a nod of his head at the village.
"No sir" replies the wyvern rider, who then adds "We've been waiting for you and the rest of the patrol".
"Good" says the subaltern, who then gives the order to dismount, then after he asks the lead rider if the wyvern has heard or smelled anything in the village, and the lead rider replies in the negative. The officer gives the command for the entire patrol to move into the village and check it out. With only the lead rider staying back with the wyvern, as is the best practice when one is going through a village or town in enemy territory that's yet to be cleared.
The scout who arrived with the wyvern, is one of the two guards out infront of the patrol as they move through the village. There's over twenty five of them in total, and they check out each house, dwelling and building, one at a time, making sure there's no hidden traps, or worse, enemy fighters in hiding, waiting in ambush, as has been the case in some of the other villages and towns justifier Marsille's army has gone through here in the foothills of the Stone Hills.
They check out everything from houses to stables, to storage sheds to chicken coops. All are empty as they move through the village. There's no stock either, the villagers have taken their animals too.
"Looks like it's been empty for some time" quietly says the scout as he stands outside a small house "How long do you think?" asks the officer in command of the patrol as he looks around "A while I'd say" replies the scout, who then adds "Maybe the start of winter". "More than likely" says the subaltern, who then nods for the scout and the other guard leading the way, to continue.
They walk towards what looks like the village tavern, and the scout notices something, he frowns and holds up a hand for the others to stop.
As the blustery wind continues to blow, he kneels down and looks at something "What is it?" quietly asks the officer who has moved forward to see what it is.
The scout points and quietly says "Boot marks" who continues with "Not dwarven, human, large person too" after a pause he adds "Steel". "Armoured?" asks the subaltern in surprise "Heavily" says the scout with a nod of his head. "Hmmm" murmurs the officer, for knights and the like aren't exactly common in Belinswae. With only a handful, from some order the subaltern hasn't bothered to find out what it is, serving in the army of justifier Marsille.
"Recent by the looks of it" quietly says the scout, who continues with "This morning maybe" he points to the lake side of the village and quietly says "From there" then he points to the tavern that's a little bit ahead to their right, and he quietly adds "To there".
The subaltern looks back at the rest of the patrol, and nods his head at the tavern, and quietly says "Surround it" the officer then tells the scout and the other guard who have been leading the way "Move cautiously, we all know what's happened to others at some of the villages and towns that were thought to be clear".
The scout and the other guard nod, then as the rest of the patrol move to surround the tavern, the two of them move slowly towards the front door of what's the largest structure in the village. They're followed by the subaltern and two more of the guards in the army of the justifier Marsille.
The scout and the other guard step up onto the porch of the tavern, the front windows of which are shuttered and boarded shut. They stand on either side of the closed door, and after looking at the door handle, the scout takes a hold of it.
The subaltern with his sword drawn, as have the two other guards with him have, nods to the scout to open the door. The scout after looking at the other guard opposite him, nods and pulls down the wooden handle, the other guard opposite him then pushes the door open.
The officer steps towards the open doorway, and he peers inside "Seems empty" quietly says the subaltern as his eyesight adjusts to the darkness inside the tavern, he frowns as he thinks he catches sight of movement.
The officer in command of the patrol blinks in surprise as he suddenly distinguishes the outline of a large figure sitting behind the table that directly faces the open doorway.
He goes to say something, when all of a sudden something slams into his chest, and he goes flying backwards from the open doorway, to land on the ground, a good thirty feet back from where he was just standing.
The lead wyvern rider is crouching down, throwing pebbles at a large rock that's nearby, when all of a sudden he hears screams and shouts coming from within the village.
He stands up frowning as he looks towards the village "Fuck" mutters the wyvern handler, who turns around towards the wyvern, as he does he hears a loud shout from within the village, from an unfamiliar voice, in an unfamiliar language, whatever it is, it isn't dwarven, nor goblin, and it's definitely not the common language.
The lead rider stumbles back as he's buffeted by the wind coming from the wings of his flying steed, that has suddenly stood up and is flapping it's wings.
"What the hell?" murmurs the stunned lead rider as the wyvern suddenly launches into the air, he yells at the large winged creature to return. But it's flying away, not looking back as it heads across the small lake, towards the hills to the east.
The wyvern rider spins around drawing his sword as he continues to hear the screaming and shouting coming from within the nearby village. The horses of the patrol, are breaking their tie lines and running away.
And as he goes to chase after one of the horses that's broken free, the lead rider suddenly stops as he looks towards the village. He sees the scout he was talking to earlier, stumble into view from around a house on this side of village.
The scout is holding his left shoulder with his right hand, as he's missing his left arm. He stumbles forward, then suddenly he's lifted off his feet, and he's pitched forward nearly ten yards when he's struck in the back with a short spear, that a lot of the guards in the army of justifier Marsille use.
The lead rider stumbles backwards as he looks at the dead scout who is pinned face first to the ground. The wyvern handler hears a yell of pain from within the village, then he blinks in surprise as he briefly sees a body fly up into the air from behind a house, then fall back down out of sight. It was another of the guards in the patrol.
Breathing heavily, and scared out of his wits, the lead wyvern rider turns and runs. And as the cold, blustery wind of the winter's day continues to blow this morning, he runs for his life, heading north.
Lord Farque walks around a small storage shed, and sees the last member of the enemy patrol still alive, the wyvern rider, fleeing north.
As he starts heading that way, a faint smile forms on the face of the undead warlord behind the visor of his full helm.
"How appropriate" murmurs lord Farque as the last member of the enemy patrol who were just checking out the abandoned village, is running straight for the bone field, or lich yard as it's more commonly referred to, that's just north of the village . . . . . .
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