De Haguns Family/Furiae/The Darkness Within Laraibina

Timeframe: With winter coming, a raiding war party has been sponsored to find as much food as possible to support Tol Goldora during the season. And as word spread around Golden Farrow about this expedition, goldorians flocked to serve under its banner, some for a sense of patriotic duty, others for dreams of treasures in far away lands. The Gylden Expeditionary Legion has set sail towards the mysterious islands south of Dwilight. Tales of riches and wonders surround these lands, but not all that glitters is gold.

DE HAGUNS

THE DARKNESS WITHIN LARAIBINA- PART 1/3

As the sunset came in, Furiae left the safety of the landing beach to move deeper into this new land called Laraibina. Scouts she had sent earlier had reported nearby abandoned farmlands, granaries and towns, but would not dare to approach to assess their situation. There was also a large river nearby, which flowed into the sea. Its sweet water would help quench their thirst, but there were no animals spotted to be hunted as game.

She turned her head back one more time and saw the Roar standing proudly in the azure deep waters of the sea, surrounded by other ships of the expeditionary fleet. Near the beach, upon a gentle ground they had set up camp and placed some sailors that would guard the boats until the reconnaissance mission returned. Captain Magnus approached her. “Having second thoughts, m’lady? You could always order the entire fleet to disembark and move as one army.”

“No, I cannot. I am the marshal of this expedition, what would it say of me if I ordered others to take a risk I would not take myself?”, asked the girl, sighing. “Besides, we do not plan to engage anyone or anything. We will just scout the region, observe. Confirm the scout reports. Fast and silent. Then, if we can proceed, the Legion will disembark.”

The captain nodded. A veteran of many battles, he was not quite sure if the young dame was extremely bold or foolish. From his previous experiences with lordlings, there used to be a fine line between one and another.

Night had fallen and they moved deep into the misty fields of Laraibina, following what seemed to be an ancient causeway. A cold winter blew out of the north, a reminder that winter was coming, but there were no leaves to rustle and whisper past them, as the trees were mostly dead. There was just the silence, and the archers moving lightly across the deadlands.

“This land seems cursed…”, said one of the soldiers in a hushed voice. He sensed something was wrong.

“Are you afraid?”, asked Furiae. She looked around and smiled. “I see nothing to be scared of. In fact, I only see nothing. Perhaps you should have stayed in the campsite?”

“M’lady, it is the nothingness that scare me. This land is dead”, he replied. “There are no animals, the trees are dead… everything is silent.”

“Silence is good. Perhaps you should learn a thing or two from these lands and be quiet, instead of speaking nonsense”, said Furiae, her temper getting the best of her.

Deep down, she agreed with the soldier. There was something ominous about this region they called Laraibina. Not a living soul, no game… everything was grimly silent and it disturbed her beyond what she would like to admit.

Furiae had ordered them to scout the region during the night because she assumed it would be easier to pass unnoticed, and should they see any towns or farmlands inhabited, they would spot them from the distance if there were any lights.

Now she regretted this decision. The cold wind was moving and it cut right through her. The darkness of the night swallowed them whole as they walked through the dead forest, and it felt as if they had passed through a portal that led to a twisted version of this world. What would she give to hear a howl’s hoot or a wolf’s howl…

But there was only the silence, which lasted for a long time.

Then a scream.

And another. And another.

All from the tail of her line of archers.

Furiae turned immediately, one hand firmly holding her longbow’s grip, the other retrieving an arrow from the quiver and ready to push the string. The soldiers either took their longbows or unsheathed their shortswords, trying to discern what had happened.

THE DARKNESS WITHIN LARAIBINA- PART 2/3

“Magnus! What is this? What happened?”, cried Furiae, her voice cracking in fear.

“Ambush! Run!”, came a voice from down the line of marching soldiers.

All hell broke loose as the soldiers started to run, while others tried to fend off whatever creature attacked them.

Furiae’s eyes narrowed as she tried to discern what preyed on them in the darkness, but could only see silhouettes. Large fangs, humanoid bodies, retractable mouths from which large and pointy tongues stretched. She aimed at one of the creatures and let her arrow fly, missing it.

Yet the creature noticed the attacker and cocked its head to the side as trying to identify a new prey within the darkness.

Predator and prey. Which was which? Furiae stood in front of the best, meters away, and prepared to fire another arrow.

A hand grabbed Furiae’s arm before she could, and pulled her with a desperate strength.

“Girl! Don’t! We have to move!”, said captain Magnus, as he rushed the dame to follow the retreating archers through the path they had been following in the dead woods.

The creatures did not pursue. There was no need. After all, there was enough food in those dead lands to satisfy them for a week.

THE DARKNESS WITHIN LARAIBINA- PART 3/3

Hours later, from the forty strong archers that had gone deep down in the woods, only thirty arrived at the beach campsite, and ten were severely injured. Amongst the survivors, Furiae looked as if she had aged years in one evening. She was unharmed, but there was blood covering her armor, as another woman, not much older, leaned on her, finding it difficult to walk.

Captain Magnus approached. “M’lady. Are you well? Any injuries?”

Furiae trembled a bit, her eyes distant and sad. She could not believe in what had happened. “Thank you for saving my life” was all she could mutter.

The captain nodded. He too had been taken by surprise, not expecting an ambush. “M’lady, this was unfortunate, but we managed to save most of our soldiers, at least the original company. Most of the dead were goldorians, who were on the rearguard…”

“Am I responsible for the death of this men?”, she asked shyly, and fearful of the answer she could receive. At this moment, Magnus judged that she looked more the seventeen years old girl she was than the dame and marshal she tried to be.

The captain stood silent and just placed his hand on her shoulder, squeezing it gently. That was not an answer for him to give her. “M’lady, how do you wish to proceed?”

Furiae shook her head, as if she was trying to push away the self-doubt that had downed on her, and her dark raven hair fell over her eyes. With a swift movement of her free hand, she pushed it sideways. “We still have a mission to accomplish. We have done out part, captain. Post guards across the perimeter we have established and secure the beach for landing. Send a messenger in one of the boats to the main fleet. They must disembark.”

The marshal left the injured woman she was carrying gently on the ground, near the fireside, and went towards her own pavilion. It was a modest, large tent. Taking out the armor, she felt numb for a moment. She had seen men die in battle, but not like this. She had danced with death for the first time, and it scared her to know how scared she was.

Falling to her knees due to physical exhaustion, a display of weakness she could never allow the troops to see, Furiae couldn’t bring herself to cry for the fallen and injured. The Furiae that cried had died many years ago. She looked at her bloodied hands and started to wash them in a basin of water, and then took her time washing, while pondering about that very question she had asked Magnus.

Am I responsible for the death of this men? As she searched her soul for the answer to that very question, there was just the numbness, the darkness within, invisible to everyone but herself. She was just glad to be alive, even if it meant that others had to die.

She slept peacefully, without nightmares or dreams, waiting for the disembark of the Expeditionary Legion the next day.

STORME

“Reuban where is my Marshal this morning?”

The Stratarch is an imposing woman, standing as tall as a man and with her heavy gambeson and partial plate she was just as broad. Before Captain Reuban now she stood without her armor, slender in a uniform with a distinctly military cut and Tol Goldoran colours. To him, a young man of twenty he liked to see her this way far more- even though the same untelling stoic look stayed in place, without the armor she was far less...Scary. Her hair was most often shoved under a helm or gathered in a pile lashed with a ribbon, in a braid this morning he could see how long and dark it was. He finds himself staring into green eyes, trying to remember what he had been asked. Finally, he replies “She has not emerged from her tent this morning” Reuben finally reveals, motioning to her large tent standing several metres away.

Svari’s stoic face falls to the slightest of frowns as she considers the tent “Still asleep.” Her voice is quiet, the frown deepens. She stoops to grab her sword from the log she had been sitting on and the sound of metal and leather snaps Reuban out of his contemplation of her.

“I can wake her.” He offers helpfully.

“No.” The stratarch’s voice is low and soft, she is wrapping the leather straps of her sword belt around her hand and arm “She is young, let her rest. Order her unit to start their day, by my command.”

Reuben nods curtly, and steps back as Svari crosses his path and heads toward the tent which houses Furiae. He did not know what to expect now, lingering by Svari’s tent to see what the woman intended to do. Watching her walk all the way over to her Marshal’s tent, and then sit straight on the yellow autumn grass in front of it, sword across her lap he cannot help but smile. While the others in the camp would get to work scouting, looting, maintaining their equipment, their Stratarch would sit and simply guard her Marshal.

DE HAGUNS

What had been a peaceful sleep turned into a rude awakening.

Furiae madly groped the ground in search of her clothes, or at least something that would give her a minimum of decency. Mornings were the worst, and she had overslept, tired as she was from last day’s disastrous expedition deep into the encampment outskirts. And she felt cold.

Sighing, she cleaned her face with the rest of the water in the basin that had been left in her pavilion and took a jug of wine, drinking more than a sip directly from it.

Rising to her feet in a swift, unladylike manner, the dame dressed herself in black woolen pants and a simple, yet slight loose white tunic, the clothes she normally wore behind her light leather armor. Despite her usual self-conscious fashion sense, she was just too tired to care, and a bit groggy from oversleeping. She touched her long raven hair and arranged it into a messy bun which threatened to fall any moment. To add a final touch, she wrapped herself in a long fur cloak which had the silver dragon of the Haguns sewn into it.

What emerged from the tent could easily pass for any young peasant girl, save for that cloak, which distinctly revealed her nobility. The last sun rays of autumn touched her face gently, and still not used to leaving the darkness of her tent, the girl turned her face the other way, scowling as she yawned.

Then her eyes widened as she saw the older woman sitting silent in front of her tent. She had seen the Marshal yawning!

Furiae’s face reddened in shame and anger. “Who are… how dare you peek on me, in front of my tent?!”, she started, as her eyes narrowed, trying to identify that bold woman. Furiae took a good look at her uniform, before it dawned on her. The colors, the cut. Could that be? “Stratarch Svari Storme?”, she asked, puzzled. “I… I did not mean…”. She stopped mid-sentence, examining Storme in a curious way, as she had not met her before.