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 Posted: Wed Feb 16, 2011 11:27 pm
"Alas, my dear, the rain hath gone-
The battle will be swiftly won!
Fear not the teeth and the claws and roars,
for they be not more than rabid boars!
To ARMS!
To ARMS!
To Arms, my bretheren we shall seize the day-
when the dragons fell shall carve the way-
and as soon as we watch the dawn's first light-
celebrate we will, we won the fight!"
The song of courage echoed the town square as the bards of the village begun to sing their tunes. Roars and laughter, prayer and song, all but mere boosters to morale for this dreaded night. The fiery beasts of lore were stories to the bards for a while, until they had arrived to Jorvik so long ago. But alas, the time for reminiscence was over. Taking his lute and storing it within the knapsack of infinite holding, Magni's father patted him on the back, praising his songwork.
"Fine work, son. Now off you go. I need you to stay home for this."
"Father, you need my help more than a bird needs wings! I can fight. You've taught me more than enough to hold my own against any man!"
"Any man, yes. But a dragon is an entirely different story. Remember the stories you used to listen to as a boy. Take heed and stay safe. Because if I fall, I need you to follow my path as the new bard. Now go."
"Fine. But you owe me lutestrings!"
"Ha! Fair play, boy!"
Scurrying about as the song died out from the chants, Magni was rushed off home for the night. While his father believed that Magni was as decent a warrior as he, Magni's father could not bear the loss of his son. So off Magni went, homeward bound, grumbling unpleasantries and curses to the social rules he had come to abhor.
Making his way to the main road, he spotted a small child that looked infinitely familiar. He made his way to the child and crouched down to his level, before flicking the child's head in annoyance.
"Gunnar! What in Odin's name are you doing out here!? It's dragon's night! Where in blazes is your siste-" He spoke, and was interrupted by the sounds of the preparation horns and the vikings beginning to mobilize out into position. They will arrive soon, and he's left with a mere child. This was not good. Not good at all.
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Posted: Thu Feb 17, 2011 3:21 am
Adults rushed around her as Vár picked her way through the village. The last rays of light were quickly failing, the cooling embers of snuffed under the weight of the encroaching night. In this moment, the last of bitterness seemed to fade with the sun. Cool air filled her lungs as she walked, and a strange calm filled her. Vár's hands shook and she knew it was the beginning of the battle fever of which the warriors of the village spoke. A smile crossed her lips as she realized this. Truly a warrior for quaking hands! That was when she spied Magni Sakaarson keeping a firm grip on the scruff of Gunnar's tunic. Vár smile turned into a smirk though it quickly vanished as movement in the dark caught her eye. It seemed tonight was a night for children to escape the clutches of their caretakers. A worse night could not be picked.
Sighing softly, she tied up her skirts so they would not give her away and ghostwalked after the little shadow slipping through the village. It was a skill she had cultivated in the process of learning to avoid her eldest brother. If she was quiet enough, she could slip right by him. If she was just quiet enough... Shaking her head slightly to dispel such a downward spiral of thinking, Vár reached out to lightly tap the girl's shoulder. Keeping her voice soft, she knelt so as to speak to the girl face to face.
"Finna, dear, I do love your sense of adventure... but perhaps not your timing. However did you managae to escape this time?"
As long as she did not mention hauling her back to her house, Vár was fairly certainly Finna would not attack or run. The beginnings of a smile quirked the corners of her mouth. She was fond of the little gixie whose wild ways caused both laughter and ire. Wild and untameable was Finna, but still a child and in need of someone to look out for her. Vár knew better than to say as much. She had the bite marks to prove it.
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Posted: Thu Feb 17, 2011 1:31 pm
As Jak neared the village the veil of silence that surrounded his home slowly slipped away. The noise of horns being blown, men shouting, and the clank of armor and weapons steadily rose to fill his ears. But he refused to let himself be bothered by it, he had to focus!
As he ran full tilt down the remaining slope into the village he realized he would have no choice but to slow his efforts. A crowd was gathering at the outskirts of the village from where the dragons usually filled the sky. So Jak turns his heels to use the natural downhill friction to keep himself from colliding with the villagers but he narrowly misses one who gives him a dirty look before readjusting his armor. Jak pays him no mind, he was obviously not here to help so they would not be opening their arms in welcome. He darts through the crowd until he gets to the docks where he must pause a moment for bad luck. The docks are dark to deter the dragons from setting the wooden structures on fire, so finding his lost tome was not going to be as easy as a task as he originally thought.
He uses the moment to catch his breath and waits for his eyes to readjust to the darkness after having passed through the still well lit village. Jak tries to recall the very last moment the leather had left his fingertips earlier that day. He closes his eyes, trying to picture it and block out the din of the bustling villagers. His eyes snap back open, the chest! Hours ago he had been down at the docks attending to two issues, the first being the usual logs of imports and exports, the second was showing a particularly daft shipbuilder why his vessel was going to capsize the moment it hit rough waters, hence the need for the tome filled with boating diagrams... which was now lost.
Jak strains his eyes looking for the fifth dock, the chest should still be tethered to an old mast there, a halfhearted attempt to keep the dragons from carrying it off. He glances over his shoulder and can only make out one dock in the darkness, so he begins to sprint again. The villagers suddenly roar, they are rallying, the dragons are coming! Jak pours on the speed dodging the vikings and other obstacles that come up in his way. He skids to a stop at the fifth dock and rushes to the chest. The tome is not lying on top, Jak's heart races, what had these buffoons done with his book! He tries the rusty catch and it comes open with a jerk, he thrusts his hand inside feeling about inside the blackness. He touches loose papers and other odds and ends, then, at last, soft leather. He breathes a sigh of relief and shoves the volume into his satchel, securing it tightly, and slams the chest closed.
A huge gust of wind hits Jak's face, he squints out of reflex, but the fireball that hits the back of the chest is easy enough to see. "Agh!" he shouts in surprise and scrambles away from the chest as both it and the mast go up in flames. There's a large thud on the end of the dock, and the sound of long talons and scales scraping along the planks lets Jak know his biggest enemy has arrived. So without another moment's hesitation, Jak bolts off the docks and into the village. The battle cry behind him lets him know that the crowd has found the beast, so it's not likely to be chasing him. Once he feels he's a good distance away Jak slows down to a trot and then comes to a stop. Now he has to cut through the majority of the village to make his way back home. He curses his forgetfulness under his breath. Out of the corner of his eye he notices the female pair and tenses. If they spotted him his night would only get worse. so he attempts to quietly back away without being seen.
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Posted: Fri Feb 18, 2011 11:44 am
Stalking through town, Brynja checked every shadowy corner, every deserted alley, and informed anybody she passed about her brother's absence. She knew most of the women bustling about while their husbands were gathered by the shore had children of their own, and sympathized with her especially. She could be called a mother in a certain way, taking care of her siblings night and day for most of her life, her father at sea more often than not. That was why she had to find Gunnar, and soon.
That was when she saw - or more accurately, for the elder boy's voice carried in the evening air - heard that her brother was indeed nearby, and caught. She spotted Magni scruffing him, all the while Gunnar still hopelessly struggling against the much larger older boy.
"Geroff, I can fight!" he growled, kicking out, his messy sand-colored hair covering most of his eyes. The small ax he had no doubt taken from their shed now lay on the ground, useless as it would have been against dragon hide. Brynja knew this had to hurt him, tough though he may be; Gunnar looked up to most of the older Vikings, including the one who now held him hostage, though he had taken to pretending he was much more interested in hunting and fighting now than stories and song. Served him right, she thought as she strode, blue eyes narrowed, towards her youngest sibling.
"Gunnar," she scolded once within easy earshot, "how many times do I have to tell you? You are not to be out this late! Must you always disobey!" Brynja gave him a stern look as he glared at her from under his fringe.
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Posted: Sat Feb 19, 2011 8:14 am
Taking a deep sigh of relief, he turned over the reigns of the child to his good friend. "Of all the times and of all the places in the world, dragons stumble upon ours." He spoke, palming his forehead for effect. He kept to his crouching position, and flicked Gunnar's head once more. Sure, he admired the child's courage and bravery, but those qualities can only propel such a young child to fight a wolf at most, but definitely not dragons.However, he could sympathize with the pup's blight. He also felt that he should fight. But there were definitely more important things to worry about at the moment. He stood up and gave an assuring smile to his good friend and nodded to her.
"We just need to get the pup to safety. The time for precautions is past, and I dont want to be in the open as the creatures begin to attack." Magni smiled devilishly as he picked Gunnar without hesitation, and slung him over his shoulder. "Now, you need a child delivered, Bryn?" He said, flicking Brynja as he spoke his oddly given nickname to the mother hen.
"Come on. Daylight is almost gone and dragons are almost he-" Magni stopped, for a moment, noting the dark clouds in the sky. They were awfully close. 'Those aren't clouds...' He thought, and his eyes widened as he heard a screech and the familiar sweepings of wings. Watching as the cloud dispersed into what seemed to be thousands of smaller clouds in a disturbing pattern. Unsheathing Starfang from his side, he started on a light jog which broke out into a run.
"Time to go!" He said in a hurry, making his way for Vár's home. Forges seemed to be the safest place at the moment, heavy walls and stone and such. At least they would be armed when they die.
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Posted: Mon Mar 07, 2011 7:17 pm
.:: Viking winds lead down my true path...
"No no no no no, please, no!!!" was shouted through angry tears, fear and sorrow straining and cracking the young, gentle voice. With a flushed face, he struggled against the binding arms of his mother, but the viking woman was far stronger than the skinny child. It hurt her to see him cry and shout, but she knew it would hurt more if she did not hold him tight.
"Let me GO!!!" he screamed, his voice shrieking on the last word. His arms flailed and his legs kicked against the ground, doing everything he could to escape. But no matter what he said, she would not release him, doing her best to drag the frantic child inside their hut. A mother's worries could not be negotiated.
Finally, he stopped, hanging loosely from her arms, no sound coming from him save the sniffling aftermath of a hysterical sobbing. But his eyes still held an almost frightening determination. If she had seen that, she would not have dared relax her arms.
Feeling the bindings give way, he bolted, his bare feet running away from home and toward the battlefield. His mother tried to grab at him, but she knew her strong hands would grasp nothing but air. Where she was strong, he was fast. There was no way she could catch him, let alone find him in the rush of battle. Even if she did indulge in her foolish desire and chase after him, she would only be endangering more people. Not many in the village could match her skills and knowledge in the art of healing, and this was her time. With glistening cheeks, she turned and entered her home, ready for the injured that would come during dragon's night.
Ketill was a runner. Though young, he was one of the fastest in the village, so it was his job to deliver messages, even during battle. However, his post was never at the heat of battles. He would be close enough for a fellow viking to be able to see him and run to him is necessary, but no closer. During dragon's night, things like battle plans, requests for supplies, and reports of the dead (or nearly dead) were his cargo. He began the night with the last.
Garek had been a close friend of Ketill's, young enough to appreciate Ketill's free spirit... but old enough to fight. So when Ketill received the message of his location and state of injury, he rushed home, where the medics stood by during dragon's night.
A few of the medically-knowledgable were designated as a kind of "battle medic," those that could fight and heal. Their job was to help those that could not reach them. They had to be skilled enough to jump into the middle of a battle and take care of injuries or bring them back to the hut if need be.
He had hoped one of them would help him. But the message that he recited back to them only made them solemnly shake their heads. His injuries were too severe to risk sending the number of battle medics it would take to keep him from dying. And there was a slim chance he would make it anyway, even with the help. Ketill had pleaded with them, and after they gave their final "no," he had bolted for the door, determined to find some way to help his friend. His mother had stopped him then, but now he was free.
No one could stop him now. He dashed through crowds of shouting vikings, ducked under beams, and leaped over debris. The fires and shouting and the roar of the dragons terrified him, but he would not stop. Finally, he reached him.
Garek was lying in enough blood to make Ketill pause for a moment, blanching at the sight. His right arm was gone. Burns that made his shoulder black said why. Furthermore, his chest had three long, deep gashes, spaced apart but parallel: the evidence of a sharp claw's destruction.
Shaking off the shock, Ketill stepped forward and kneeled by his friend, trying not to think of the blood on his legs.
"G-Garek..." Ketill managed to utter. His friend looked up, surprise showing through his pain. He tried to speak, his eyes pleading, but he could only cough up blood. "I won't leave your side," he said; the strength of his words gave no sign of his fear now. Garek's eyebrows furrowed into worry before relaxing, knowing the boy would not leave until he did. "You'll..." Ketill mumbled, his words dying. He tried, but he could not finish. He wanted to reassure his friend that everything would be ok, that soon they would be running through sunny hills, laughing and chasing butterflies. But he could not lie to Garek, not to Garek, who had never hidden the truth from the curious child. Who had answered all of his curious, useless questions. Who had embraced his love of freedom instead of shunning it. The struggle over his words, over these things he thought he had mastered in stories, made him choke. He dared not close his eyes to the sight of his dying friend, but he could not hold it back. As he stared into his friend's eyes, he was numb, unable to feel the tears that streamed down his face. Garek smiled fondly at his young friend. And then he closed his eyes forever.
"Hey, boy!" shouted a voice behind him. He stood, wiping his eyes quickly, and turned around. A man ran toward him, covered in blood that fortunately did not seem to be his. "Message! Tell the forge to send more arrows over here! Go!" he shouted before turning around and running toward a battle merely a hundred feet away. Ketill jumped at the sight of the dragon but regained his solemnity quickly before dashing off.
The wind stung his eyes, sensitive from crying. Still he ran, keeping them open despite the pain. Once he was free from danger, he closed them, uncaring of the tears that continued to trickle. He knew the land by heart, and was not afraid of obstacles. Everyone was either fighting or in a hut, so unless there was someone out here trying to avoid the battle, he would be fine, and he knew that would not be the case. But that was his error in judgement. He ran right into someone, knocking Ketill down and back. He looked up quickly, more confused than hurt.
"Ah! Sorry, Jak..." the young viking mumbled, though it was loud enough for the librarian to hear. Ketill actually liked the guy, if only for his vast collection of books. Ketill loved reading, and visits to Jak's place filled his heart with joy as he awaited the next adventure.
...commanding me to fly. ::.
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Posted: Wed Apr 20, 2011 12:53 pm
Jak was just beginning to think himself successful in his escape when someone collided with him at top speed. He was nearly knocked off his feet but manages to maintain his balance with his walking stick, even if just barely. Irritation rising he straightens up and looks down at the boy. He was just about to stalk away and let the whole thing slide when he realizes just who had run into him so rudely. He pitches his voice to be heard over the din of battle but not to draw unwanted attention.
"You!" Jak's brows knit together and the hairs on the back of his neck rise like hackles, "Ketill you little brat! Making more trouble I see! As if it wasn't bad enough you left all those muddy footprints in my home, you didn't put a single book back in it's proper place! Now this! I swear by the Gods if you pull one more prank in my library I'll feed you to the dragons myself! You think I have time to be cleaning up your mess? I have records to keep for the whole damn village! Because Gods know nobody else will!"
Jak stops a moment to dust himself off, straighten his vest and coat and take a calming breath. Only then does he notice Ketill's dirty, tear stained face. His face relaxes somewhat and his voice takes on a more curious tone, "What exactly is the problem that sends you running blindly through the village?"
The second the words were out of his mouth Jak realizes he would regret asking the question. His curiosity got the best of him but now there was a chance the boy might actually believe Jak wanted to hear his life's woes, which was definitely not the case. His face remains unmoved but he internally kicks himself for carelessness.
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Posted: Fri Apr 22, 2011 10:04 am
As soon as her brother was found, Brynja's sick worry instantly flared into disappointment and frustration. Gunnar's continued struggles did nothing to soften her, either. But Magni was right - the only thing that mattered at present was getting everyone somewhere they would be neither cooked nor gored.
"Thank you, Magni. It is well that my brother has people in his life who care to preserve it." Her voice was flat, barely restraining the temper that bubbled just below the surface. Eyes piercing her young sibling, she spoke venomously to him, "I'll deal with you later."
Gunnar corralled, as well as sufficiently scared about his punishment, Brynja turned to follow Magni, giving him an annoyed glance at his childishness. That was enough to make her notice the change in his expression as he next spoke. The blonde looked over her shoulder toward the horizon, worry seeping through her mind again. Dark clouds. Moving much to fast; aimlessly. As she watched in mounting panic, they broke apart and let loose a resounding shriek. She did not mean to, but it made Brynja flinch.
Not blaming Magni for turning tail and running away with her brother, Brynja followed suit. For the second time this day she was thankful for not being in a dress. She noted they were heading for the forgery, the home of the red-haired Var. It seemed sensible, as well as close. And safe. A good place to keep her family safe.
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Posted: Tue May 03, 2011 4:36 pm
The noise behind her caused Vár's attention to wander from her ward as she turned to see what this new commotion was about. With a victorious cry, Finna succeeded in struggling free and disappeared into the night. Vár began to go after her when the feeling of being watched came over her so strongly, she reflexively looked over her shoulder and froze. The beast was taller than a house, it's teeth long and sharp. The fangs were what caught her attention. She would be two bites than gone. She tried to turn to face her death, got tangled in suddenly cumbersome skirts, and fell to the ground. The dragon aproached and she scrambled backward, her hands questing blindly for some purchase, for anything--the fingers of her left hand curled around something hard and weighty. Her one weapon.
For a breath of time, though it felt endless, she looked into the dragon's eyes. They were the color of molten gold, a precious and precocious metal she had seen her father work only a handful of times. In that space of time, she almost felt she could touch the creatures mind, see what it was thinking. Absurd. Her weapon lifted free of it's resting place and she threw the stone as hard as she could into the eye that was far too intelligent. Vár was rewarded with a monstrous roar as the dragon reared. Regaining her feet, Vár rushed beneath the leviathan and drew her belt knife. It would do little to actually harm the beast but perhaps someone would see... Thrusting the dagger upwards, Vár sent a prayer along in desperate hope. Let them come.
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Posted: Mon May 30, 2011 9:44 pm
.:: Viking winds lead down my true path...
Ketill's mind was numb as Jak chastised him; he heard without listening. It was nothing he was not used to hearing, and his young mind was still overwhelmed from what he had just witnessed. Tears still littered his dirt-messed face, but sniffles were his only sound as he stared blankly forward with dull, half-closed eyes.
Then the question. Ketill opened his mouth, fully intending to speak, fully intending to mumble something about arrows before getting up and brushing himself off. Fully intending to be strong and fulfill his duty as a runner. But he couldn't. Words, his domain, his love, had abandoned him. His cries became audible sobs, and only then could he speak. Only then, in between his cries.
"G-Garek... he's... he's d-dead... he said, not knowing or caring of how Jak felt about the deceased teenager. Garek was one of the many vikings who could not read, and thus never visited the Jak's home, but Garek would always listen to - and usually enjoy - the retelling of the stories Ketill had read.
But now he was dead. Ketill tried to think of what reason could possibly justify such a death, such a young death. But whenever he thought of his elders, of the people that created these "soldiers," his thoughts were clouded by hate. He saw red, then thought of blood. Remembering, he shifted to see his knees, then paled upon seeing dried blood - Garek's blood - still there. He tried scrubbing at them, somehow trying to remove it, but that only resulted in getting it on his hands. He stared at the blood, silent, focused.
"I... I need to go..." he whispered suddenly. His eyes were wide but unfocused as he struggled to his feet. "Arrows... for the river crew... he continued to mumble, his voice distant. Then he slipped, crashing to the dirt. One more futile attempt at standing barely got him to his knees before he fell for good, slipping in and out of a necessary unconsciousness.
...commanding me to fly. ::.
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Posted: Thu Jun 02, 2011 10:09 pm
Jak watched the boy before him grasping for words and was not amused. However just before he could begin tapping his foot like a metronome of impatience the flood gates broke loose and the cries were audible over the battle. Jak was startled and took a step back. Emotions of others and how to deal with them was not his strong suit, he realized he should probably locate a book on the subject, he always aimed for a truly rounded collection. so he opted to stand by as a silent witness to Ketill's sorrow. Long ago he recalled being in a similar state. The villagers around him had said kind words but they were empty, and brought him no relief. So Jak chose to spare the boy his undoubtedly botched attempt to comfort him and moved on to wondering when it was appropriate to leave when Ketill found words.
'G-Garek... he's...he's d-dead...!'
Jak simply continued to stare, but his brow furrows as he tries to match a face to the name. Then he remembers the older boy. Just as filthy as this one, they usually ran around together making a ruckus. He was not particularly fond of either of them, but they had not earned death so early in life. Jak's mouth sets into a grim line. There is still nothing he could say to Ketill, but his mind is a whirr with rage. at the rate the village was losing people, young and old, there would soon be nothing left upon this miserable hunk of rock for the dragon's to steal. Jak clenches his fists at his sides, still silent.
He watches Ketill's distress over the dried blood upon his legs, and then his hands. The boy is finally quiet as he stares at the blood on his hands. Then 'I... I need to go...' and 'Arrows... for the river crew...' before collapsing. Jak stares at the boy on the ground for a moment before he realizes he's not standing back up. Then he throws his hands up in the air, frustrated. "Gods! This was supposed to be simple!!"
Jak can hear the dragon battle moving deeper into the village, he cannot just leave the boy for dead. That is something he could do without on his list of injuries in the eyes of the village. For a moment his icy eyes look a bit wild and he lets out a scream. This place, this life, was not what he wanted. So Jak scoops the boy up and over his shoulder the best he can. He may not be a fighter, but he was born a viking. Jak makes the snap decision to take Ketill with him, because by the sounds of things, there is no longer a clear place of safety other than his home set back in the hills. So Jak funnels his rage into speed, and runs for the calm.
Jak takes the long way out the back of the village, but there is far less debris and fighting to go through. As the roars of vikings and dragons grows quieter behind him, Jak begins to feel the strain on his bookworm limbs, but still he cannot just dump Ketill on the hillside. So he tries to readjust the boy's weight over his shoulder and presses on up to his home. With relief he kicks open the door and staggers to the spare bedroom where he gratefully dumps his charge on the bed. Jak halfheartedly arranges him so he doesn't look uncomfortable and stumbles back out into the main room to collapse into the chair at his desk. And thee he sits panting, trying to catch his breath and his thoughts.
Bringing someone into his home was an oddity, but at the moment, Jak couldn't think of a better option. The boy would wake, the battle would end, and he would leave. Simple. It should always be simple...
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Posted: Tue Jul 05, 2011 9:10 pm
'NO!' Finna thought as she felt a light tap on her shoulder. Spinning around quickly, she faced her founder, which happened to be Vár. The little viking had had many encounters with the tall, red-haired female, some pleasant, others disagreeably so... She sang her teeth into the girl a few times she tried to tell her things that she didn't want to hear, but after a while, the girl seemed to learn how to deal with the sandy-haired girl. Finna's mismatched eyes glared up at the emerald ones that had somehow caught a glimpse of her in the bushes. Vár's words hadn't even registered in Finna's mind, instead the small rebel was thinking of different ways to evade the situation and escape while staring at the girl's faint scar. There was no way Vár would passively allow her to stay and join in on the action...
Before she could think of a sufficient plan, Vár's attention turned else where, giving the little viking the perfect means of escape. "HA!' Finna shouted, running off further into the brush. Looking over her shoulder to make sure the tower of a girl wasn't following her, her eyes widened and her legs paused from her sprinting at the sight of the large dragon looming over Vár. For a few moments Finna stood as still as a statue, watching the girl scramble like an ant under it's molten gaze and then fight back as well as she could. 'This is not right,' the child thought, 'I should help! That's what I wanted to do in the first place...'
Without any warning, the wild little girl sped through the bushes, only tripping up once before bursting through to the scene and storming the dragon where it stood. Vár's knife had barely effected the dragon, so it would make sense that Finna's efforts would fail as well, but she was too war-hungry to be smart about her attack. Running and pouncing with a wild roar, her little limbs did their best to attach to one of the dragon's front limbs, making an attempt to wrestle with the mighty beast. When it was clear her method wasn't working, her mouth opened with a growl and she clamped her teeth down hard on the dragon's tough hide.
The little girl's attempt at saving the beautiful viking was quickly turning sour as the dragon's golden eyes peered down at the mischievous girl, though his eyes displayed no more viciousness than they were usually mistaken for. The opposite limb of its monstrous, scaly body lifted slowly reaching for the small human and grabbing her in it's monstrous onyx claws. None of them pierced her, instead trapping her within them as if she were in a cage. With a bellowing screech, the dragon's wings began flapping, soon elevating it into the air before any vikings could take the offensive against it. Finna's frustrated and bewildered screams becoming decreasingly loud as it flew off into the night towards the inside of the island.
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Posted: Fri Jul 08, 2011 8:41 pm
Brynja's heart pounded as she wound her way around battles, dodged debris. All her mind was focused on putting one foot in front of the other as fast as she possibly could, making sure Gunnar and Magni were still ahead of her, on track. However, the girl could not block out the roars, the screams that surrounded her. The dragons were closing in. And as much as she didn't like the situation one bit, they seemed to be getting closer, not further from the commotion.
One roar sounded particularly close, making the blonde jump and almost topple to the ground. As Brynja whipped her head around to get a view of the nearby beast, she glimpsed what was under it - a flash of red hair and metal. Var. Not a moment later a much smaller creature flew from the bushes onto the dragon. A child, younger even than the teen's defiant brother, leaped onto the monster, yelling in Finna's tiny voice. Brynja looked back the way she had been running. Magni still ran with her brother farther ahead, almost out of sight through the smoke and rubble. They would reach the forge. They would be protected by warriors. A more urgent scream brought Brynja's attention back to the unprotected girls. The dragon now had a hold on the small one, and began carrying her away. There were no warriors here. Only children. Gods let my brother be safe. Her instincts told her Gunnar would be fine for now, these others were in more danger, had more need. Clearing her mind and bracing her body, the protective teen ran towards the unseen battle.
But she was not in time. Finna was gone, in the air far above where she could reach. Brynja came to a halt, panting, next to Var, who still lay on the ground, knife in hand.
"What happened? How is it this child is out? How could you let the dragon take her?" Anger turned to madness as Brynja helplessly watched the child from the ground. She turned on Var, not caring how or even if the other answered these questions. By the Gods, why couldn't the children just obey...
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Posted: Sat Jul 09, 2011 1:57 am
"FINNA!"
Vár rose unsteadily to her feet, screaming the girl's name uselessly as Brynja approached.
"She just... I had her and she ran... oh gods, she'll be so scared... I've got to do something..."
Turning in around she took a few steps, stopped then walked in a different direction. Helpless. Hopeless. What could she do? Go after the beast? And what? p***k it with her useless knife? Throwing the offending item away from her, Vár sunk to her knees, cradling her head in her heads.
"Oh, Finna. I should have kept you safe."
Eyes wide, she lifted her head to stare up at Brynja.
"It will eat her, won't it. Gods help me, what will I tell her mother?"
Her head dropped back down, as she rocked in place for a moment. Her head was filled with visions of Finna screaming as clawed beasts tore her apart. It was her fault. She had to do something. But what could she do? The voice of her elder brother echoed in her ears. Rising unsteadily, she shook her head violently. No. No more of this idiocy.
"I will just have to follow. Hunt the beast down."
There would be weapons nearby and she could easily take food from one of the houses. Everyone was out fighting or working. Turning her back on Brynja, Vár strode quickly to the nearest dwelling.
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