Lost and Found - A Cavalry RP

[Taethowen]

Taethowen & Walpurga, Finally Arriving

The sun was barely approaching high-noon when the sounds of an encampment began to filter through the air from a copse of trees, and she noticed a recently-worn trail through the grass. Beyond those, Taeth could hear the rushing of a river. Then there's the sound of horse's hooves, and Taeth motions for Walpurga to step to the side of the trail before they were trampled.

The dryhtguma leading the party reins his horse in, and Taeth feels a faint bit of relief when he doesn't salute her. Either the King and First Marshal had really enforced the idea of not using their ranks for this training mission, or her face was still new enough after both her sudden return to the Cavalry and then nearly immediate promotion to Second Marshal that most of the sperewigends and dryhtgumas were unfamiliar with her, especially without an insignia designating who she was.

And to be honest, she was quite enjoying being just a pæth for a little while longer.

"Thank you," Taeth nods as the dryhtguma directs them to the camp site, excited at the prospect of some food that might be something other than apples and turkey. "Are any of you planning to be in the proximity of a nearby village, by chance? We've acquired some fresh wolf pelts that need to get to a tanner as quickly as possible."

"Sighard*, you're passing near one, right?" the lead dryht motions to another soldier. "Take pelts for them."

Sighard walked his horse over to her, and Taethowen handed up the bundle of pelts wrapped in the very well used remains of the heavy cloak. "Please make sure they know to leave the fur on the skin, though I can't imagine why anyone would make leather out of a wolf pelt. But just to be safe."

"Yes'm," Sighard nodded, securing the wrapped pelts behind his saddle before returning to the patrol.

"Let's head into camp," Taeth said to Walpurga. "You need to get those scratches looked at by one of the hælends. I know you're not worried about them, but I'd feel better about it if you did."


Reconfigured supplies:
a canoe paddle
a bag of apples (okay we've probably eaten them all by now, especially since the wolves got to the turkey for breakfast)
a heavy cloak now missing a bit at the hem
a small knife
a piece of flint
three wolf pelts
a leather bag
a wooden comb
a few water skins
a clean shirt
a very basic hælend's kit

---

OOC for anyone who cares, it looks like from the prompts that the order of arrival at camp is roughly so:
Taeth & Walpurga - just before midday
Gwai - midday
Dicun (Aethelu) and Elarith - midday
Amadhrill and Eomund (Dim)/Aelflad (Fairy) and Eldrith (these two groups seem to arrive roughly at the same time) - mid-afternoon
Allacan & Eolath - late afternoon
Thali & Shiva (accounting for moving more slowly since Shiva is injured) - ??? definitely in the afternoon
Rowena - hopefully by nightfall

OOC @Shivased - Sighard is going to be my secondary Cav character. Just introducing him now since it's convenient to do so LOL.

[Gwai]

Gwai, Enjoying the Water, a Little Hungry, Mild Sunburn

The Entwash was pleasant after the waterfall, and Gwai was actually enjoying drifting down the river in her small rowboat. She would occasionally dip her makeshift paddle into the water to keep the boat straight, but otherwise she was content to lead to the current take the boat downstream. It was a warm day, but there was a nice breeze on the river, and she could jump in to cool off at any time. She had her boots off and her pant legs rolled up, her loose linen shirt keeping her cool, although she wished she had a hat since she was fairly certain her nose was getting a bit pink. Besides losing her partner and being really, really tired of eating berries, she was having a pleasant adventure. Hopefully the other cavalry members were having an equally agreeable time.

Looking back, she spied a another small boat coming around the last bend in the river. It was likely some other cavalry members with a similar idea of boating. She debated paddling to the side and waiting for them, but rounding the next bend, she saw the camp. Although she was having enjoyable time, particularly as she wasn’t having to walk in the heat, she was looking forward to a full meal, and hopefully a change of clothes.

She returned the wave of a young dryht on the bank, who tossed her a rope. He had terrible aim, and Gwai struggled to get close to the rope with her makeshift paddle. Finally catching hold, she tied the end to the bow, and jumped out once the water was shallow, helping the dryht pull the boat onto the bank. The camp was relatively empty, but it looked as if Taeth and Walpurga had arrived recently. Gwai waved to them, glad they had made it.

The other boat was coming into sight, and Gwai stayed in the calf-deep water to help bring them into shore, particularly as the dryht seemed to have problems with his rope throwing. She soon could make out it was Elarith and Dicun, and Gwai waved. “How was your adventure?” she called as they drifted into earshot.

[Thalionwen Hunigfolm]

Thalionwen, with Shivased and Grimm

"You Aethelwigends have a LOT TO ANSWER FOR," Thali said irritably to Grimm as the wigend who brought them news of the camp's location rode away.

"Now look here," Grimm sputtered. "I'm not responsible for the actions of all wigends!!! And what have I done but help? I let you braid my hair."

Immediately, Thali relented.

"You're right," she said with a sunny smile. "And you're lovely, Grimm. EVERYONE ELSE CAN GO AND BOIL THEIR HEADS."

It appeared that Shivased's general mood and inclination to shout at the sky were catching.

"Here," Thali said, shoving a full waterskin into the First Marshal's hands. "Take this and drink. I'm going to cut your boot off. Don't say anything about support, you'll have no circulation if that ankle swells anymore, and then it won't just be the boot I'm slicing off, it'll be the foot too. Though I suppose we could messenger your severed foot to the king. Grimm, knife."

Obligingly, the large Aethelwigend handed over a dagger, with which Thalionwen dexterously removed Shivased's boot. Rinsing mud from the Marshal's foot with some of their water rations, Thali checked for soundness and found only a sprain. Bandaging the damaged ankle neatly, the haelend surveyed her handiwork with satisfaction. "There, now your sprained ankle's the cleanest part of you!"

Casting about herself, Thali caught sight of a familiar insignia on a bundle near Shiv. The haelend's emblem was half-coated with mud, but there was no mistaking it. Pouncing on the bag, Thalionwen rifled through it, finding everything caked with yet more mud. A leather pouch containing a small assortment of herbs had kept its contents from damage, however, and Thali pulled out a small strip of willow bark.

"Here," she said, handing it to Shivased. "Chew on that and it'll dull the pain in your ankle. We really ought to soak that foot in cold water and put a poultice on to help with the swelling, but it'll have to wait. Grimm, there's no horse, so I'm afraid you'll have to be the First Marshal's noble steed. Don't sling her over your back the way I did with you though, she needs gentle handling."

[Amadhrill]

Amadhrill and Éomund

They walked and walked and walked. Ama kept glancing up at Osbert to see how he was doing and down on the earth in front of her in search of edibles. From time to time she bent down and picked something up, giving whatever she found to Osbert who again put it in one of the saddle bags. As the sun reached its highest point they had a small lunch of apples, dried meat, and some wild berries and herbs. She carefully examines the wounds, exchanging the bandage with the most blood. Nothing looks infested. They managed to get Osbert off the horse, so that both the horse and the soldier could get some rest. And then, with as much huffing and puffing as before, got him back on the horse before continuing in the same direction along the river. Ama was pleased in a way, the hike went fairly well, all things considered.

Was that the smell of smoke? Of fire? She raised her voice. «Éomund? Do you smell that? Smells like a camp fire...» They didn't need to walk much longer before what was definately a camp came before their eyes, first came a small smile into her face, but as they drew near and she could see the colors of the cavalry flying over the camp she grinned. «That is a cavalry camp!» She explained with relief in her voice.

An Æthelwigend approaches them, and Ama saluts him. «Welcome to camp!» he declars, she nods as he points out the hælend tent, with a promise of supplies and assistants. «Thank you, Æthelwigend!» Her voice is calm and businesslike as she talks to the Æthel. «I will bring dryhtguma Osbert to the hælend tent, he needs more care then what I could give him with what little I had.»

Then she turns to Éomund, her face softer as she takes his wounded hand and looks at the makeshift bandage. «It has stopped bleeding, lad. I want you to go and wash up, get yourself some food and report to me at the hælend tent.» Then she adds, with a smile of mishief. «And this is why you shouldn't become a hælend, once the battle is over and everyone else can take their food and rest, our work start as hælends...»

Taking the lead rope from the trainee she makes the last few steps to the hælend tent, quickly greeted by the assistant hælends waiting outside as they see her and the wounded soldier. How much easier it is to get the soldier off the horse when they are more. With help he is quickly put unto one of the few beds inside the hælend tent. «He needs to have a change of bandages, and the wounds should be properly cleaned, he was bitten by a badger. He will need a few stitches to prevent too much scaring.»

She cleaned her hands thoroughly as one of the assistants removed the bandages and cleaned the wounds with alcohol, making the poor soldier swear from the stinging pain. Then Ama was handed the needle and thread. «This will hurt, I'm afraid, but then it's just salves and bandaging before a meal and some rest.» She pinched the wound together and made a few well placed stitches, before leaving the rest to the assitstants.

«I brought you some stew, hælend, I am sure you must be hungry.» Ama took the bowl with both hands and a grateful smile, barely having the time to say «thank you» before digging in. Better eat now, when she had time, perhaps she would even manage a clean-up and some rest before more work came along. It was how it always was, once the battle was over and the rest would eat and rest, when she was weary from fighting (or very rarely, waiting at the edge of a battle field), then her true work began.

[Dimcairien Luiniel]

Amadhrill and Éomund

It felt like they had been walking for hours and hours. Éomund was getting tired and his hand was sore. It seemed that Ama was rather concerned about the state of Osbert as she kept looking up at him as they walked. By the time midday rolled around, Éomund was ready to take a nap. His legs were sore, his hand was sore, he swore he had a sunburn, and he just wanted to lie down somewhere. This whole Cavalry exercise seemed ridiculous and pointless and in a very small part of his brain he was starting to regret entering the Dragon Room the other day. But, on the other hand there was no way he was going to go back home to his mother as a failure. He didn't want to disappoint the father he had never really known nor his "uncle", who had sacrificed a lot to be there for him. But most of all, he didn't want to disappoint himself. All his life he had been a poor kid, the son of the town seamstress, the unlucky kid whose father had been killed in battle. Not that his situation was entirely unique, there were a handful of kids in his town that had lost fathers during the unrest of the previous decades, but somehow he had gotten the short end of a short stick. Here though, in Edoras, in the Cavalry, perhaps he had a chance to make a name for himself and step away from the somewhat overpowering shadow of his mother.

He was broken out of his thoughts by Ama suggesting they stop and rest for a bit to eat lunch, the rest of the apples, some of the dried meat, and a few berries they had found while following the trail. While they were resting, she checked the wounds on Osbert's arm. And then they continued on their way. After travelling only a short while since lunch, Éomund thought he smelled some smoke. Ama said something about a campfire, and Éomund tried to pick up his feet to go a bit faster. It sounded as if they were almost to the camp! And only a few minutes later the camp was in sight. Éomund let out a very audible sigh of relief.

Someone approached them and Ama saluted. Éomund followed suit and gave what amount to an awkward, but at least attempted, salute. She greeted him as Æthelwigend and he welcomed them to the camp. Ama gave instructions for him to go wash up and get some food before reporting to her at the hælend tent. She guided the horse and Osbert towards said tent and left him standing in the camp.

Éomund's stomach let off an audible growl, causing the Æthelwigend too look at him, but the soldier smiled kindly and directed Éomund in the direction of food and water. The smell of the cooked food was enticing after what felt like days of living off of apples and dried meat. Éomund eagerly took the offered soup and was about to gulp it down in practically one swallow, but remembered Ama (and his mother's) advice about not eating things too quickly when one was hungry. Food was a precious resource and not to be wasted, especially by eating it too quickly and your stomach rejecting it. So Éomund found himself sitting on a log near the the food slowly eating the soup and trying his best not to fall asleep.

He looked around and noticed a few familiar faces from the Dragon Room; Walpurga being the only one he could confidently place a time to with his tired brain.

Food now eaten, he stood up and went to the hælend to get seen to by Ama. As he walked towards the tent, he looked down at his scarf-wrapped hand. It still hurt a bit, but Ama had said it had stopped bleeding, so hopefully it wasn't a very bad wound and would heal up soon. He still felt like a bit of an idiot for getting hurt in such a stupid way. He approached Ama and smiled at her, "Hopefully everyone sleeps better tonight."

[The Good Hunter]

Taethowen & Walpurga – In Camp

Taethowen and Walpurga had not been walking long when the sounds of horses filled the air. At first it was nothing more than a gentle rumbling, not too dissimilar from the sounds of a river, but as the thundering became louder and louder there was no mistaking it for anything else. She looked to Taethowen but the woman seemed calm and unperturbed. She merely motioned Walpurga off the from the middle of the trail. She spoke to the men with am air of confidence, of command. Walpurga hoped she, too, would be able to have that sort of presence. The men took the wolf pelts and directed them toward the camp.

She allowed Taethowen to take the lead, following in the woman's footsteps . She wasn't best pleased by the pæthfindian’s insistence that she have someone look at her wounds, but she knew better than to argue. She recognized that tone of voice, it was the same one her mother had when she wad not going to hear any counterarguments. Walpurga, though, could not resist throwing out as least one comment. “Yes, mother.” She smiled though, as she rolled her eyes. She knew Taethowen was right, she just didn't want to admit it. She looked down at her hands. Most of the blood have been washed away, but the gashes in her palms still looked nasty and jagged. They would make for good scars some day, she could show them of when she told the story.

The camp was quiet, even for the time of day. Here and there she saw people, but for the most part the camp was empty. Had they been the first to arrive? Did that mean they won? Of course it didn't mean that, she chided herself. It did mean, however, that she wouldn't have to wait long to see a hæland to get a wrapping for her hands. She was just about to ask Taethowen where the hælands would be located when she caught sight of a familiar, blonde woman striding into camp. It was Gwai! Walpurga tried, and failed, to keep the smile that swept over her face and dimpled her cheeks. She wasn't sure how to react at first (She wasn’t even sure Gwai had seen on her at all) but when she saw Gwai wave, her smile became more enthusiastic and she waved back excitedly. Only after she'd waved for a good few seconds did it dawn on her that Gwai was probably waving to Taethowen, like they were old friends. Her hand fell like a stone. It was likely the woman didn't even know she existed, she reasoned with herself. Not yet anyway.

She was about to crawl inside her feelings, her cheeks burning red hot, when she saw Éomund! The feeling of panic and nervousness subsided when she caught sight of him. “You made it!” she called loudly with a genuine laugh. “I thought you might have gotten eaten by wolves!”

[Elarith]

Elarith & Dicun, bobbing along

Elarith dropped the sword in the bottom of the boat and grabbed hold of the gunwale. She flicked her head to indicate to Dicun to jump in whilst she pushed the little boat off the mud and waded out a little way into the river with it, holding it by the gunwales. The water was nice and cool against her legs, the current tugging at her and the boat. She checked the bottom of the boat as she pulled herself in. It looked dry so far. She didn't want to mention that that could possibly change when her weight was added to it.

Grabbing a paddle, Elarith helped steer them out into the middle of the river. "No more carrying that saddle at least," she called back over her shoulder to Dicun. "Keep your eyes peeled for any signs of the camp." Or orcs. Best not to mention them either in case it somehow summoned them up.

Meadows passed by on either side. The river rolled along smoothly, and she barely needed to paddle, using the oar more as a means to keep their position steady and fend off the occasional rock than to propel them forwards. Elarith almost felt herself nodding off as the sun shone down and a slight breeze pushed stray blonde hairs back from her face. If not by horse then this was the way to travel!

Further ahead, she thought she could see a small shape, but it was hazy in the warmth and light spray of the river. "Can you make that out? Is it another boat?" Elarith asked Dicun, who seemed to have stronger eyesight than she did.

[Shivased]

Shivased couldn't believe their luck when a Cavalry patrol rode up on them, and felt her shoulders sag in relief. If they rode to camp, she could put off having her boot taken off. That wasn't happening, however. It seemed this Aethelwigend was an idiot. A complete, utter idiot. He tossed a bag of supplies at them and told them to walk to camp. I CAN'T WALK! CAN YOU SEE MY FOOT! GET BACK HERE YOU IDIOT, YOU DON'T RIDE AWAY FROM YOUR FIRST MARSHAL, THAT'S MUTINY! She yelled after him, but he continued to ride away without looking back. YOU'RE CLEANING EVERY LATRINE AND OUTHOUSE IN ROHAN WITH A TOOTHBRUSH FOR THIS!

She glanced back at Thali once the patrol had ridden away and swallowed nervously as she was basically ignored and told she would lose her foot if the boot didn't come off. Thali and made it clear she was going to cut the boot off and thrust a water skin at her. Given she hadn't had water since she found the stream back before the mud, she took it gratefully and took several big swallows.

She was just taking the last drink when the haelend began cutting the boot and choked on the water as the pain hit her. It was an odd mix of intense pain worse than when the injury happened, and relief as the constricting boot was released. She felt herself tipping sideways as she coughed on the water and reached out to steady herself but hands were there before she could. She glanced up when her coughing stopped and nodded at Grimm, who was awkwardly holding her shoulders and looking embarassed.

Relax, you're not going to break me...Grimm, is it? She knew she should know his name, but was embarrassed to admit she didn't.

Yes ma'am the Aethelwigend replied, but continued to look awkward. Just.....watching that one he nodded towards Thali and Shivased noted braids bobbing in his hair. She had heard something about braids earlier, and was about to repeat her question of where Thali had found herself an aethelwigend and what she had done to break him already, when the haelend manipulated her ankle. She shouted, her body going rigid, and reached for something to hold onto. Unfortunately the only thing her hand could find was one of Grimm's braids. She grabbed the braid and pulled, squeezing her eyes shut as the ankle was manipulated, poked, and then wrapped firmly, ignoring the hands that let go of her shoulders and frantically pulled at her hand, or the voice shouting beside her.

When it was done she opened her eyes and found Grimm's head right beside hers, a look of resignation on his face. She dropped his hair immediately and shoved herself away from him. Um....sorry she told him, then looked away and down at her ankle. It was bandaged nicely. She took the willow bark from Thali and chewed on it, making a face and swallowing as quickly as she could. She hated that stuff, the nasty bitter taste of it. But it would help until she could get to camp.

I would love to soak ALL of me in nice cold water right now, but until we get to camp that's not going to happen she told Thali and looked down sadly at her mud-covered self. Taking a final sip of the water skin she corked it and set it aside. She briefly considered insisting on walking, but knew from experience that wouldn't fly with Thali. Haelends had an odd desire to keep people from continuing to injure themselves. Looking to Grimm, held out a hand. Help me up, then get in front of me. I much prefer my own Storm as a mount, but you'll have to do. It's only a few miles and I'm small enough you shouldn't have much trouble.

Only a few miles. Grimm muttered and shook his head, but did as instructed. As Shivased clambered onto his back and wrapped his arms around the man's neck, he added I had a horse when I started out today.

He started out once they had collected all the supplies, and sure enough after a couple hours and with a few breaks for their poor pack-wigend, the sounds of camp reached her ears. Oh, thank Bema! she shouted happily when the camp finally came into view. Grimm, take me to the nearest food!

[Aethelu]

Dicun and Elarith, on the river

Elarith seemed to think the boat would be fine, so Dicun prepared himself for the trip down the river. He hesitated for a moment about what to do with the saddle. It had been given to them so surely it was cavalry property, he couldn't just leave it behind. He could see it now, arriving at the camp at last only to be reprimanded because he'd left the saddle behind. Picking it up, he sat it in the middle of the boat, hoping it would be balanced between the two of them. He hopped in as well as Elarith pushed them into the water. So far so good, the boat wasn't instantly overwhelmed with water and they were balanced.

The trip down the river was easy, Elarith kept them on track, and there was nothing to cause them any concern. There was also little sign of a camp, which was not ideal. The gentle rocking of the boat was quite relaxing, Dicun was starting to wonder if he could take a sneaky nap. Elarith leaned back to ask him question though, distracting him from thoughts of sleep. He squinted against the sun to see what was ahead. "Aye," he replied. "I think it is a boat."

A smell hit his nose all of a sudden. He sniffed hard, it smelled like fire. He tensed, what if it was the orcs? What if they'd attacked something and burned it down? Then he saw it. "It's the camp!" He cried out, pointing towards the shore where he could see the camp coming into view. The boat ahead of them was being hauled in by a young dryhtguma, with help from its occupant. They were getting close now, he was trying to figure out who it was on the shore now, but he was struggling to remember the other members of the cavalry. She called out to them, asking how their adventure had gone. At the same time the dryhtguma threw out the rope again towards them. As Elarith was steering them, it seemed only right that he should grab the rope and get them in. He reached towards the rope and...

SPLASH

The water was colder than he expected, though perhaps he was just warmer than he realised. He gasped which gave him a mouthful of water. Thankfully, the water wasn't too deep and his feet managed to find the riverbed quickly. Standing chest deep in the water he coughed furiously before looking around for the boat. It was next to him, still upright. "Well now I'm definitely awake," he laughed to Elarith, grabbing the front of the boat and starting to pull it towards the shore.

[Gwai]

Gwai was torn between a gasp and a giggle (both highly unprofessional) when Dicun misjudged how deep the water was when he jumped out. She settled for a concerned “Are you alright?”, although he seemed none the worse for wear as he laughed and started pulling the boat out of the water. Once he was a bit closer, she grabbed the other side of the bow and helped pull the boat to shore.

“I’m glad I wasn’t the only once who ended up in a boat for this!” Gwai told Elarith and Dicun with a smile, as she unloaded her meager supplies from her rowboat. The sticks which had doubled with oars she tossed onto the bank. The dull sword she kept, as well as the bedroll, although it was smaller after she had improvised a rope. Most importantly, she grabbed her boots.

Her feet were still wet, so Gwai carried her boots as she walked to the main camp. Taeth was already there, and Gwai waved, a bit surprised when the young woman next to Taeth (Walpurga) returned the wave enthusiastically. She tried to remember her name, but couldn’t quite, and made a mental note to introduce herself later. But food first.

Taking a seat in a nearby log, Gwai gratefully accepted a plate of food one of the wigends in the camp handed her. She ate a few bites, savoring food that was not just berries, as her diet for the last day or two had been. A shout at the other end of camp drew her attention. Was that the First Marshal, being carried into camp? As that was one of the only things which would make her abandon her food right then, Gwai swiftly set her plate aside and rushed over, regretting she hadn’t yet pulled her boots back on. “Shivased!” she exclaimed as she drew closer. “What happened?” she asked, concerned, but not overly worried since she could hear from across the camp she was already directing the æthel to take her to food.

[Amadhrill]

In camp

Amadhrill had eaten two spoons of the luke warm stew when Éomund entered the hælend tent. She took another spoonful and put the bowl on the floor, in a corner where it would not be in the way, and stood up. Her smile was friendly at the trainee. «I hope we'll have a bettter sleep tonight! Gotten some food, yet?»

It looked as if he had not washed himself yet, but then again, she hadn't either, just a quick round with a cloth in her face and on her arms. Since she had started eating she washed her hands again while speaking to Éomund. «You really should wash yourself as well as you can in the river. You will feel better for it, even if you put on the same clothes, but it might also be that someone thought to bring with some spare clothes for us...» She softly took his hand and unwrapped the scarf, throwing it in the pile of discarded bandages that would be properly washed and boiled later. Then she examined the cut again, her voice soft and easy as she looked at it. «No sign of infections, not very deep either, I think it'll heal nicely even without stitches. This will sting...»

She took a cloth from a nearby pile and held it under his upturned hand before gently pouring the alcohol into the cut. Her hold was gentle, though ready to hold tight if he moved or tried to withdraw his hand. Letting the hand go she found a small jar of honey and a few fresh leaves of plantain. «I am sure you know the herb plantain or waybroad?» She showed hit some of the leaves, though she expected him to be familiar with the herb or weed, depending on where it grew. She took his hand again and used a splinter of wood to scoop up a little honey and put it on the cut, then she put the plantain leaves on it. «There is no sign of infection at the moment, so you are safe to put it on with healing side towards the cut. Should the cut show signs of infections, use the other side of the leave, and come and see a hælend!»

Her hands gently bound a bandage over the cut now covered with honey and plantain leaves. «Keep it dry, and if you can't come back and I'll get you a new dressing, okey?» She was about to send him on his way again, then she patted his back and added with a smile. «You did well, lad, my training and entering into the cavalry was not nearly as though as this. I hope we are finished for now, but make sure that you get some rest and food, maybe some clean clothes if you get the hold of it, just in case...» She stopped her words short, no, she shouldn't frighten the kid, and she smiled at him. «Off you go, now, wash and rest and food! And check your feet for blisters, you can put plantain on any blisters as well!»

She followed him out of the tent, grabbing her bowl as she walked out of the hælend tent. There was a commotion by one of the camp entrances, and, was that the First Marshal Shivased on the back of wigend?! For a moment the wrinkle on her forehead reapeared, but the she saw that the marshal was closely followed by hælend Thali. «Westu hælend hal! Need any help with the marshal? The hælend's tent here is well equiped, there are some assistants too, and now that you're here we're two...» she called over with a smile, gesturing with the spoon still in her hand.

[Elarith]

Elarith & Dicun, soggy, hungry, but slightly less sleepy

Elarith screwed up her eyes to try to make out the boat ahead, but it was a good distance off. "Wonder who's in it?" she said aloud. If she had been feeling energetic she would've paddled after them to try to catch up, but after the trauma of the previous night she was happy to leave her curiosity be and let the river do the work. Dicun had looked a bit sleepy back there too, poor lad.

At least he was still alert enough to spot the camp when it came into view round the bend of the river. "Finally!" Elarith sighed with relief. As she dug the oar into the water to swing the boat towards the bank, she saw it was Gwai who had been ahead of them in the other craft, and who now asked how their adventure had been. "Exhausting! Get me to the food and tents!" she shouted back, as a dryhtguma threw them a line.

There was a loud splash, and water slopped up the side of the boat as it rocked violently.Elarith instinctively reached out with her arm to grab the opposite side of the boat as it lurched back to right itself. Steadying herself, freshly soaked down her left side, she looked back to where the noise had come from, and saw Dicun was now standing saturated in the river. Maybe it was partially the sleep deprivation, but she couldn't contain herself and let out a roar of laughter.

Gwai was more use, thankfully, and helped bring the boat to land. "Thanks very much," Elarith told her, when she'd recovered from her laughing fit and hopped out of the boat. "Sorry, Dicun, I didn't mean to find your misfortune that funny... but it was. I'll buy you an ale at the Æthelmund when we get back to make up for it. Speaking of which, let's find some food."

Plucking the sword from the bottom of the boat, she stuffed it back in her belt out of the way and, taking pity on Dicun for having carried it so far, took the saddle as well, leaving him the bridle and crude bow. She set off following Gwai, wondering who else had made it back to camp and who was still out in the wild.

[Shivased]

Shivased looked around as Grimm carried her across the camp, pleased to see that most of the people she knew were being brought for this exercise were there. Some looked a little worse for wear, appearing tired, hungry and even one or two with bandaged hands or soaking wet! Whatever had happened, and judging by Thali's state of dress, everyone had suffered the same lack of useful supplies as they had. She scowled again briefly, her anger flaring at that thought, but the smell of food took her attention away from being mad for the moment. First food, then sleep. Then head back to Edoras and fire some people.

Grimm was halfway to the nearest fire when she heard someone call her name and Gwai came hurrying over, oddly barefoot. Fell down in a cave, then fell in a mud pit, then took on two badgers. Thali and Grimm here found me, though you'll have to ask her where she kidnapped Grimm from because she hasn't explained to me yet. Grimm has been lovely and carried me across the plains here.

Grimm just grunted his ascent and continued to the fire, where he set her gently - we're going with set, though it was more of a dumping - on a log and flopped down beside her with a groan. She patted him on the back in sympathy and accepted the plate of food that was immediately brought over. Sniffing appreciatively she took a big bite of roast boar. Eat yours, Grimm, then take a plate to Thali and see if she needs any assistance, she told the Aethelwigend. She felt a little bad since he was probably exhausted too, but he'd at least had a good night sleep and been riding part of the day. He could make sure the haelend was seen to.

"Who needs food?" Grimm replied. "I'll go see to the other one, then eat. Maybe she can fix my back while she's at it." He got up and left, heading over to Thali and holding out a plate of food. "Here, the first marshal thinks you might want this."

Grinning at the long-suffering aethelwigend's back, Shivased turned back to Gwai. Soo, where are your boots? Did they haul you out without letting you get properly dressed too? She gestured down to her own odd garb of mud-covered dress that had been cut off at the knee.

[Allacan ob Burzum]

CONTENT WARNING: Animal slaughter and mildly graphic description of a deceased rabbit

Allacan, Dryhtguma of the Eastmark, with @Éolath

Allacan had to admit, she was repeatedly finding herself impressed with Éolath’s ingenuity. She had at first been worried by his panic and frustration at waking to discover himself bereft of all speech and in a state of disarray, and had braced herself for impetuousness and belligerence for the rest of that day. But he did not, it seem, blame her for any more of a lapse in judgement that he, and it seemed that after another wash and taking a few minutes to put himself to rights, he steadied his mood admirably. Sooner than she had expected he had swiftly braided a halter and lead-rope from long grasses - how did he do that?! - and courageously used the same tree stump she had to mount up on the bold chestnut. She watched with an appreciative smile as he rode the horse a short distance, before dismounting to braid yet more rope to lash their bucket and cooking pot to his horse. She gave him a big grin, a nod of approval as he sat in anticipation on his horse, checking he was ready with a querying look and a thumbs up, and on his return signal of agreement she gently squeezed the palomino mare’s flanks and directed her head in a parallel route to the water-flow. She picked a steady trot as the pace; they were fresh and fed and she wanted to make up for the time lost in their early morning delirium by getting some distance behind them.

Allacan was a singer. At least, in normal circumstances she was. When she wasn’t on the hunt or in her... *other* mind-set she often hummed or sang softly to herself, especially when travelling. It helped her maintain calm. So after a while of maintaining the fast trotting pace, when they dropped down to a slow walk for a bit she found it strange to be riding unaccompanied by her own gentle warblings. It made her feel wary; her finely tuned senses fixated on the smells, sights and sounds of the world around her. It was the state she associated with her experiences of being hunted, tormented, tortured and retrained as an assassin. Some of the calm, happy contentedness she had recaptured in the last day or so began to evaporate from her mind, and older, darker thoughts began to loom.

She didn’t show many outward signs of her increasing alertness and melancholy mood, except perhaps holding her make-shift spear a little tighter and smaller her head visibly to focus on any strange shifting of noise. To an unfamiliar observer such as Éolath she would simply appear increasingly alert as though hunting for prey; little did he know from his position riding behind her that her alertness came more from the wariness of the prey expecting a lethal attack any moment. She tried humming to calm her nerves, and the empty muscle contractions helped a little, but the lack of resonance and sound did not help her to stave off her jumpiness entirely.

Her sharp ears heard a sudden shift in the grass only a few feet behind her and slightly to one side, and Allacan immediately twisted in place and hefted her spear defensively as she felt a rush of adrenaline coarse through her. A second later and her eyes recognised the rabbit cutting away from the chestnut’s hooves. She hesitated, for the moment it took for her brain to register lack of threat and re-order itself to identify potential prey. The rabbit suddenly changed direction and was about to disappear back into the grasses when at last she looses the spear, only just in time to catch and pin it’s hindquarters in the dirt the instant before it disappeared from sight.

She leapt from her horse, drawing her knife defensively as she did so, and glanced around one last time to check for ambush before she knelt down and, grabbing the panting, stricken rabbit round the neck, twisted sharply with a jerking tug and snapped its neck. It twitched a little, then grew still.

Retrieving her spear, she held up the rabbit by its back legs - it’s head lolling in an unnaturally loose fashion - and took a deep breath to try and steady her nerves before turning back to face Éolath. She held the coney up triumphantly, plastering a fake smile on her face that instantaneously became genuine at the thumbs up of approval he gave her. She opened her mouth to speak, and although the words did not come out there was a faint grating noise; that was promising! Her memory of Feawen’s notes suggested the voice would return an hour after the first utterance of noise was achieved, and she grinned. She patted her stomach at Éolath appreciatively, and then promptly began lifting her thin summer shirt up over her head.

She set to draining the worst of the blood from the coney and then wrapping its body in her shift to save it from leaking all over her as she carried it. She was anything but naked on the top; Allacan was far to well endowed a woman to ever dare riding without wrappings, but all the same with the special bindings only covering her upper torso it left her well-muscles stomach bare to the sun. The same muscle definition in her legs was as evident here; her abdominal muscles were clearly defined and her upper arms seemed strong enough to lift a man. She shrugged apologetically at Éolath, trying to make it clear she was behaving thus only for perfunctory purposes as she wiped her bloody hands, knife and wooden spear point on the shirt-bundled rabbit. With her spears tucked under on arm, the coney-bundle in one hand and the lead rope of the palomino in the other, she set off in the direction of the trees Éolath indicated.

A moment later, and she found herself feeling exceedingly vulnerable and flat footed. Three large, burly individuals stepped out from the trees wielding swords threateningly. Her mind whirred as she calculated the odds stacked against her, slowly dropping the rabbit bundle on the floor and trying to extricate herself from the horse beside her enough that she found hopefully hold them off. She drew the dagger and stretched her left hand to hold both its and the narrow hilt at once. She had her other throwing spear ready to strike at the first that came too close; she would use the second as a make-shift staff and try to hold them off defensively; if they got inside her guard with those swords she’d have to be hard-pressed to avoid injury and would never have time to draw the dagger; she’d have to hope she didn’t lose her grip in the imminent fray. She was particularly uncomfortable with how at least one of them was eyeing her bared torso covetously. She vowed she would cut that loon right off his face if he dared touch her.

When Éolath caught her attention, she was confused for a moment. She hadn’t realised she had stepped up beside him protectively, or that she had been mentally preparing herself to hold off all three assaulters single-handedly in an effort to save him from harm. It seemed he had the courage of his relatives, however, for he had dismounted and planted his feet as surely in defiance as she, but his motions seemed to be indicating towards another solution.

It took a few more moments for her to realise his intention, and finally catching on, she shook her head emphatically in an almost over-dramatic fashion. She tried to make her eyes goggle with fear, so that the three bandits might interpret her speechlessness as terror, but it had been a while since she had been truly terrified by anything and so she wasn’t sure how convincing she was. Thankfully they seemed distracted by Éolath’s performance and paid her little heed, except for the one that kept leering at her and was now licking its lips and twitching it’s fingers in an anticipatory fashion.

When Éolath made a snatch at the mushrooms, Allacan stepped away from him in a seemingly clumsy attempt to get the makeshift pouch of miniature mischief mushrooms away from him, but he was quicker and soon had the sock-pouch in hand and was offering it to the three would-be thieves. It looked for a moment like they would not be fooled, and she shook her head then stared in consternation at Éolath as he tossed one casually into his mouth.

She just about stopped herself from smirking as she saw the three of them swiftly shovel down a handfuls of the mushrooms each. Wow, they must have been hungry! she thought, as she watched them slowly descent into hallucinogenic bliss. Then she turned to Éolath with concern across her face, and stared in outright surprise as he proudly presented to her the slightly chewed but still whole little mushroom he had moments ago popped into his mouth.

She laughed, and the noise of single small cackle escaped her lips, and tousled his hair fondly in an exhibition of affection and approval, then hastily passed him the water skin and indicated that he should spill the water out and spit, not swallow. While he did so, she casually retrieved her discarded sock and placed the last solitary mushroom inside it, tucking it back into her belt. She kicked the dropped swords away from the woozy bandits and forced the last of the grubby people still standing down onto their backside; a woman, she realised. Ugly as all sin, but a woman all the same. There was nought in Rohan to stop a woman achieving the highest ranks in the cavalry all the way down to the lowliest wretch, she reflected with a disgusted sneer. It wasn’t that Allacan was averse to the sexual attractions of another woman, or pernickety about traditional standards of beauty, quite the opposite. She simply despised lechery and possessive leering in all its forms, regardless of who engaged in it. My body is mine! she mouthed aggressively down at the currently cross-eyed, drooling bandit-woman. And nobody gets to decide what I do with it but *me*! She lifted her foot to place it against the woman’s chest and firmly shoved her so she was supine on the floor, where she giggled and rolled over onto her side. Allacan snorted in disgust and turned away.

Éolath motioned to tie them up, but she shook her head; she didn’t want to lose what little grass-ropes he had crafted to these and she was wary of sticking around long enough to craft more. She wanted to be long gone when these people awoke. And no matter how appealing it was to bind them tightly and leave them to a grisly fate in the heat, she had doubts that the grass-rope would hold against any sustained effort to break it. She looked around; except for those unfortunate enough to be the victim of the king’s most recent cavalry training exercise, people rarely travelled these remote fields without...

HORSES! Three of them no less, at least one of which appeared even to Allacan’s untrained eye to be of prime stock, possibly even one of Rohan’s finest breeding lines. This particular mare was an odd blue roan colour, with a black mane and tail and most definitely not a horse that people thus equipped could have any legitimate rights of ownership to. The others were fine creatures also; one a white paint with brown markings across the top of its head and ears that made it look like it was wearing a cap, and the last one a majestic, intelligent-looking dark bay with a light cream coloured mane and tail that might be near-white if it weren’t so grubby. All three magnificent creatures had clear signs of recent neglect.

This new revelation and the knowing look the last one gave her decided her. Horse thieves, neglectful animal owners as well as bandits (plus Bema knows what else); these three deserved a taste of their own medicine! She returned for a moment to Éolath to retrieve the bunny-bundle and gesturing for her companion to remove the trousers from each of their defeated assailants with a sharpness of motion that would tolerate no objection. She then jogged back to the horses and unhitching them each from where they had been tied, looping reigns to tie them off against saddles; she dare not risk lashing together horses she did not know and would have to trust to their herd instinct.

She heard a squeak over her shoulder and turned to see Éolath scrabbling backwards from the second of his ‘victims’, who had roused unexpectedly and had managed to snatch up one of the fallen swords. She cursed the young lad silently for letting them tumble closer to the weapons in their delirious state, tucked her two spears under the nearest saddle-bags where she had recently affixed the shirt-wrapped coney and quickly leapt into the saddle of the nearest horse, the blue roan. The horse leapt forward before she even realised she had applied pressure and the other two followed instinctively after it. As she drew alongside Éolath she appeared to have snatched up one of the swords and was standing defensively with it in one hand, and a pair of trousers in the other. She shook her head at him and gestured for him to gather his own dropped spears and mount up.

Adrenaline similarly spurred the younger rider into the saddle. With a rusty sword tucked in his belt he skilfully manoeuvred the chestnut close enough to snatch the lead rope of the palomino mare and then kicked his mount forward to follow after Allacan. The one man who had regained his feet could only stumble towards them as they retreated, falling face first as his feet refused to keep up with his head. As Allacan led their little herd of horses in a circle round the three bandits to align them back on their original path, she spotted that the lustful woman was the one Éolath had relieved of her trews and laughed aloud, her voice much returned to normal so that the sound of her delighted giggles mixed with the sound of swift hoof beats was the last thing the three bandits would remember of the victims-turned-thieves.

She rode the roan mare down towards the river bank at a steady speed, searching out the softest earth for their route, having to reign in the eager creature on more than one occasion for she seemed keen to stretch her legs. She followed the river closely for a time, keenly observant of the bank looking for exactly the right spot. There; that was it! She turned the horses sharply toward the river where it widened into a shallow crossing, and led them all over it to the other side, up the bank on the other side in the gaps soft muddy gaps between rocks, and onto the green grass beyond. She led them a short distance from the river into the thick grass, before halting suddenly and dismounting.

“Quickly, dismount and remove as much weight from the horses as you can.” She said to Éolath briskly in a voice that only sounded a little higher and squeakier than normal. She shook her head at his querulous look. “Don’t ask why, just do it. Quickly.” she said in the closest thing she had uttered to a command since they had met while she tugged the dark bay back from grazing on the long grass and began unsaddling the roan.

With as much of the burdens from the largest horses now on their shoulders, she said “Good, now lead them back the way we came, and try to keep them either on the same route we took to get here, or on rocky surfaces where we will leave no tracks.” Éolath finally seemed to catch on to her intent and dutifully started to lead the horses back. Allacan brought up the rear, mussing up both her own and Éolath’s footprints and carefully stepping out and breaking up any hoof-prints that were clearly going in the wrong direction.

When they reached the river and Éolath looked minded, she called out “No, not here. Head upstream and take your time; there’s a rocky bank on the other side about a quarter league upriver. As long as we don’t turn an ankle in the shallows we can use that as an egress point and but across the open field to camp leaving little trace for them to track us. The last thing we want to do is to have those three miscreants follow us to camp; they might get stupid ideas and ruin of revelry.” the demon within her would much rather she sneak back and cut all three of their throats while they lay helpless, but she subdued it with determined focus.

It was slow going for a while, and cold. The river quickly filled their boots with cold water that was refreshed with each step they took, and on a few occasions they had to wallow up to their knees and almost to their waist to get past deeper sections. At one point the loose stones and boulders were so slippy and unstable underfoot that Allacan opted to individually swim the horses out into deeper water and round the rocky shore to firmer footing rather than have one injure themselves on the river-bed. Thankfully the flow was not so strong that it proved a struggle, but she was thoroughly doused by the action and in the shade of the trees that grew on the river-bank it was cool enough that by the time they reached her intended egress point she was shivering. But she forced her slightly-dulled mind to focus enough to not ruin their efforts at the last hurdle. Éolath was sensible enough to pick the safest route of flat rocks out of the river, ensuring they left minimal tracks behind them as they went, while Allacan followed behind, tucking her fingers into her armpits for warmth as she carefully removed any trace of their passage from the riverbank and immediate area beyond.

At last, when they were a good distance from the river and it’s rushing waters were only a distant whisper, she dumped the saddle she had been carrying for some time into the grass and, straightening up, stretched out her back, admiring the sight of the five horses now in their possession. She grinned at Éolath mischievously “Nothing like a bit of horse-wrangling on a family holiday, eh?” she joked, before adding in a more serious tone. “If anyone asks where we got the horses and their gear from, we confiscated these obviously-stolen belongings from criminals in the name of the King, understood? If you aren’t comfortable with that, then you tell them you were acting under my direct orders. Which is the truth.”

She looked about them, recalculating their position based upon the terrain they had traversed and the pattern that the river had taken. “Now then, if I am not much mistaken, and I don’t believe I am, we are much closer to where I think the camp is positioned than I suspected earlier. If we cut across country here we should meet the Entwash further north and then follow it upstream to the Entwade, which is where I suspect we’ll find the camp. If we push for a fast pace over these fields, I’d like to think we could even make camp before nightfall and spoil any cavalry comrades there to a coney and wild-garlic stew.” She re-saddled the roan while she talked, double checking the straps were on tight and only then realising she had lost one of her spears during their travels; ah well, too late to go back now. She retrieved the bandit’s trousers from her companion and connected them to the top of her other throwing spear like a make-shift banner. She then opted to mount the fully tacked roan horse again rather than risk the unsaddled palomino, partly because this mare had seemed eager to please and she wanted an opportunity to test what this beauty was capable of. “How about we test the pace of these new horses?” She said challengingly to Éolath, then without waiting for an answer she spurred her mount forward into a gallop, grateful as the swiftness of the horse coupled with the hot sun and the warm air soon had her dried out and warm again and revelling in the sound of thundering hoof-beats as the little herd and her cavalry companion followed close behind.

The pair’s inventory;
- Five horses, three with full tack, the other two with grass-braided girth ropes, one rope-halter and lead and one a normal halter and lead-reins
- A cooking pot
- A mostly-empty water skin
- A holey bucket containing wild garlic and wood blewit mushrooms
- A dead rabbit wrapped in a bloody shirt
- A dagger
- A sliver of flint
- A bundle of firewood tenuously held together by green-wood straps
- Two make-shift throwing spears made from sticks and leaves (with Éolath)
- A pair of trousers affixed to a make-shift throwing spear like a ridiculous banner (with Allacan)
- A sock-pouch containing 1 slightly-chewed tiny mischief mushrooms (with Allacan)
- A pair of gloves (with Éolath)

OOC - Horses stolen with the permission of First Marshal @Shivased. The trousers, however, I beg no forgiveness for.

[Thalionwen Hunigfolm]

Thalionwen, happy to be among haelends

The moment Shivased, Grimm and Thali entered camp, the haelend heard a familiar voice.

"Westu hælend hal! Need any help with the marshal? The hælend's tent here is well equiped, there are some assistants too, and now that you're here we're two..."

"Ama!" Thali called back, relief singing through her. "Oh thank goodness, another haelend. Do you know, I've been wandering about with no one for company besides the First Marshal and an absolutely incorrigible Aethelwigend? There was no one sensible, it was a nightmare!"

Hurrying across the camp, Thali impulsively flung her arms around Amadhrill, though she took care not to jostle the other haelend's bowl of stew.

"What happened to you out there?" Thali asked, breathing in the familiar smells of herbs and linen and spirits that wafted from the haelend tent. "I mostly just wandered, myself. Shivased had a bad time of it though, and she's fuming. She sprained her ankle, which is alright for now--I got it bandaged in the field--but I don't suppose we've got any calming teas on hand, have we? If something doesn't take an edge off the First Marshal's temper sooner rather than later, I'm afraid she'll dismiss or demote half the Cavalry over this disaster of an exercise."

As she spoke, someone cleared their throat from behind her.

"Here, the First Marshal thinks you might want this." Grimm held out a plate loaded with wild boar and Thali looked down at it in dismay.

"Oh no," she explained. "I don't eat dead things. Unless they're dead plants. Which does seem a little hypocritical, I see your point, but if it was all dead things I'd just wither and perish, wouldn't I? I don't suppose they had any potatoes, or apples, did they? Be a lamb and try to find me a plant to eat? You can have the boar though, don't let it go to waste."

Grimm heaved a weighty sigh, but obligingly stuffed a piece of roast boar into his mouth as he stumped off.

"You know, you don't actually outrank me," he called back to Thali. "I don't have to fetch and carry for you."

"You're a perfect lamb! Keep an eye on the First Marshal too!" Thali answered as he went. "She'll have apoplexy, she's worked herself up so! Grimm! GRIMM! ASK HER IF SHE WANTS TEA!"

Pivoting on her heel, Thalionwen turned back to Amadhrill.

"That's Grimm," she explained. "I found him while I was trying to get back here. Isn't he lovely? We're very, very good friends, only he doesn't know it yet. Let's have a poke around for that tea, shall we?"

********
Grimm had been gone so little time that Shivased and Gwai were still in the midst of their conversation. Waiting dutifully until they'd exchanged a few pleasantries (or really unpleasantries, as the situation warranted), he finished up his plate of food and quietly replenished Shivased's. But there were no potatoes on hand. Or apples. And the stew appeared to be full of some sort of meat--Grimm was fairly certain the unstable healer's prohibition on "dead things" would include whatever it was.

"I'm supposed to find out if you want tea," Grimm said to the First Marshal as soon as he was able to get a word in edgewise. "And to keep an eye on you. But I couldn't do what you ordered--the haelend said she won't eat dead things? Unless they're dead plants. And I'm not sure we've got anything for her."

[Taethowen]

Taethowen, Grabbing Some Real Food and Siccing a Hælend on Walpurga

She heard the sass in Walpurga's voice as the younger woman muttered, "Yes, mother," at Taeth's insistence on having a hælend look at her hands. Taeth ignored Walpurga rolling her eyes, and instead eyed the hælend's tent across the camp, but it seemed oddly quiet. Surely there were more hælends somewhere, other than the ones she was sure were also stuck into teams for this... mission. Quest. Thing.

But then she caught the scent of stew wafting through the air and her stomach grumbled loudly. As Taeth looked around for the food, she caught sight of Gwai striding into camp, look just a bit sunburned. Gwai waved, and started to wave back but was caught off guard when she noticed motion out of the corner of her eye, and a bit of surprise washed across Taeth's face, and then a smirk as she realized that Walpurga was blushing. This was interesting...

Walpurga didn't realize Taeth was watching, though, which was probably for the best. Taeth had no intention of teasing her about it, but she knew that sometimes embarrassment was a terribly powerful thing, and she didn't want to jeopardize any aspect of their new relationship so far, whether as a superior and subordinate, or maybe even as friends in the future. So Taeth stepped away, pretending not to have seen and retrieved a bowl of stew as Walpurga greeted another friend, who seemed to be a new recruit as well.

"Here, go eat, and then we'll go see the hælend," Taeth said. "Go visit with your friend, but don't wander too far. If you don't go to the hælend yourself, I'll be dragging you there shortly."

After Walpurga went her, temporary, separate way, Taeth found herself a quiet spot with her own food. She savored each bite, though she wished for a nice warm hunk of buttered bread to go with it. But still, it was much improvement after barely-cooked turkey and more apples than she wanted to see for a while. After a bit, she heard some commotion that Gwai responded to. It seemed to involve the First Marshal, but by the time Taeth stood, everything seemed to be under control.

Taeth took her bowl back to the sperewigends on kitchen duty, downed a generous cup of water, then looked around for Walpurga. She was unable to spot her right away, though, and made her way to the hælend's tent, where she found Thalionwen and Amadhrill scrounging around for... something.

She cleared her throat to get their attention, then spoke, "Hælend Amadhrill, can you make sure to check the wounded hands on one of our new recruits, Walpurga? She'll be easy to spot--black hair and blue eyes. She... well, let's just say she got bitten by a wolf. That's close enough to what actually happened. If you want the full story, you'll have to get it from her."

Taeth then turned to Thali, relieved that her friend had made it to camp safely, though she raised an eyebrow at Thali's... nightdress? What in Arda? This whole thing seemed to be some sort of disaster, if that was the case. "Hælend Thalionwen," Taeth said, then hesitated for just a second. This... wasn't reall a Cavalry issue, but... well. She needed some help, and it was better that it was her friend. "I... need some help. With a wound." Well that wasn't coming out quite right, Bema damn it! "Not... a fresh wound. Just... do you have a moment to help me with a private matter?"

[Gwai]

Gwai, Eating, Boots Drying, Still Mildly Sunburned

It was a bit disconcerting speaking with Shivased as she was on the back of poor Æethelwigend Grimm. Shiva seemed to be taking it in stride (so to speak), as Grimm more or less gently placed Shiva on a log. Gwai was torn between horror and laughter as Shiva told her of the adventures she had. She settled on laughter since the First Marshal seemed battered, but no permanent damage. “A cave, a mud pit, two badgers! You’ve had quite the time of it,” she said with pronounced understatement. “I’m glad you made it back to camp!”

Grimm soon brought Shiva a plate of food, and Gwai picked her own plate back up, happily shoveling more of the food in her mouth. It wouldn’t win any awards, but it was filling, and, most importantly, not berries. Shiva asked about her boots, and Gwai shook her head, taking a small sip of water before she replied.

“No, fortunately I was still up when I was ‘kidnapped’, so I had my regular clothes on,” Gwai responded, thankful she had not been to bed that night yet, as she looked at Shiva’s torn dress. “My boots are right over there,” she pointed across the camp, “I had a small rowboat, so I was jumping out to swim fairly frequently to keep cool, and didn’t want to put my wet feet in dry boots.” She paused, feeling a bit guilty, and even worse as she added, “And the rowboat was quite seaworthy, and I managed not to sink this one.” The incident with the Minnow was not strictly her fault, but she still felt guilty.

Turning to other news, Gwai said, “Quite a few have made it back to camp so far! There are still several missing, and I also lost my partner,” she said, wincing, hoping Rowena would make it to camp soon. She had given one of the riders who had been sent to find the stragglers out the location she had been when Gwai’s boat was swept away, hopefully they would find her before it got dark.

Grimm soon returned with Thali’s uneaten plate, offering Shivased tea. “Bema, yes, should you be in the haelends’ tent instead of here?” she asked Shiva, horrified she hadn’t thought of it before. Grimm went on to say Thali was refusing to eat meat, and Gwai motioned toward the river. “There’s plenty of blackberries growing on the banks if you want to pick her some,” she offered. “Or I believe there might have been some bread as well. Fairly stale,” she commented, before looking back at Shivased. “I think our quartermaster may have a bit of a grudge against me,” she said only half-jokingly.

[Aethelu]

A very damp Dicun finally making it to camp

When Elarith started to laugh at the sorry sight of Dicun standing in the water, he found himself laughing too. "Sorry about that," he grinned sheepishly as they headed to shore. "I think I need to learn how to balance in a boat better." As Gwai reached them to help pull the boat in, Dicun gave himself a quick once over. "Looks like I'm okay, just need food and a bedroll at this point."

At last they were on dry land, the camp was in sight, and the smell of food was almost overwhelming. "I'll take that ale when we get back, but we definitely need food." He noted Elarith was half soaked, he assumed it could only be from his little dip in the water. "Ah," he cried out. "Sorry about getting you wet. At least there's a fire to get dry by, maybe even some fresh clothes." Thankfully his little swim was masking the smell of day old sweat he'd acquired after their adventure. He couldn't wait for a proper scrub with some soap and clean clothes. His growling stomach was making it abundantly clear that it didn't care for clothes or baths.

Heading into the camp, Dicun took note that plenty of others had managed to make their way their as well. Some looked a little worse for wear, at least they had managed to avoid any injury. Elarith had kindly brought the saddle along, leaving him with only the tatty bridle and what could kindly be called a bow. When someone waved them over towards a campfire with food, he nearly sprinted over, dropping his equipment to the ground as he settled onto a log. They handed him a bowl, but in truth he didn't even care what it was. He practically inhaled it, his mouth and throat burning in protest, though not enough to stop him. Once he'd finished one bowl, he held out his bowl for another helping. The wigend narrowed eyes at him, there were others who needed feeding, not just one greedy dryhtguma. Dicun managed his best puppy dog eyes, which earned him another bowl. He took a bit more time to eat this one, rather than gulping it down in one go.

While he was still dripping wet, at least he was now full. He was starting to get tired again though. He looked around, wondering if he should get some clean clothes and bedroll, or if he should just power through until the night.

[Éolath]

Eolath with Allacan
The mimed order to remove the bandits’ pants had him first frowning in consternation, then in good humor that lasted until he started stripping the prone body. He had the stinking pants half off before realizing his bandit was a woman. He flushed, stumbled back then squeaked as another stood waving a sword. Damn it, he though, cursing himself for his inattention. Stupidity like that would get him killed if his enemy wasn’t hallucinating. Luckily, Allacan was more attentive than he, and came to his rescue on one of the bandits’ horses.

Sheepishly, he mounted onto his chestnut and settled his spears. The other horses followed docilely; he didn’t say much as they rode away, lost as he was in his own thoughts. Despite the internal monologue of him berating himself, Éo tried to pay more attention as they rode towards the river. He was still startled, however, when Allacan dismounted and told him to unsaddle. He opened his mouth to protest, but her sharp command stopped him. Muttering, he turned to do as he was instructed, reminding himself she did out rank him…and knew more about this sort of thing than he did.

Her command made sense as they started backing up the trail, and he hung his head. Not only was he an idiot, but he hadn’t even thought to hide their tracks. “Sorry, Allacan,” he mumbled, then unbraided part of his lead rope to use as a brush on some of the lighter tracks. When they took to the river, Éo tugged off his boots and socks and secured them into the holey bucket. The water was cold but refreshing, and the horses seemed to enjoy the coolness. He didn’t mind so much until the current turned and the path became treacherous. Just as Allacan turned for deeper water, he slipped on a mossy stone and fell with a startled yell and splash.

His grip on the chestnut’s lead kept him from floating away, and he managed to flounder to his feet. “Seriously?” he grumbled, shivering. “That water is cold.” He glared up at the river bank, hefted his burden of saddle again and continued past the tumble of rocks. Shortly thereafter he noticed a bank of smooth rocks and angled towards it. He was done with the river, and the water they splashed up would soon dry under the hot sun. As would he, hopefully.

Once on the bank, he had just enough time to wring most of the water from his pants and put on his boots before his companion led them away. By the time she stopped again, he was almost wishing for the river’s coolness again. But his trousers were dry, and his shirt soaked with sweat instead of river water, and the saddle was mostly recovered from its unintended dunking.

“Holiday?” he grumped, hunching his shoulders and stretching his back, then suddenly grinned. It wasn’t a traditional holiday, he mused, but it had been a chance to get to know this cousin of his and learn new skills. Being grumpy did no good, and they had had fun despite it all.

“We confiscated them…as well as obviously stolen trousers and swords,” he said solemnly. “Even if I did follow your orders, that doesn’t absolve me of my responsibility. I chose to obey,” he grinned again, slowly it turned into a chuckle. “But can you imagine when they wake up, half naked and missing their horses? They’re going to be so confused.” He continued to chuckle as he tested the fit of the saddle on the chestnut. He’d like a turn on the bay, but the liberated horses had seemed so sad. Though, they already looked so much better. A bath and some grazing had done wonders for their spirits.

He’d just finished fitting the tack as Allacan explained how to get to where she thought the camp was, and glanced up to see her affix the stolen trousers to her spear as a banner. Laughter bubbled up again as he pulled himself into the saddle. As the roan mare jumped forward, he shouted an amused “not fair!” and clapped the chestnut on the shoulder.

“C’mon, Dancer! We can’t let the girls outpace us!” His joy floated on the breeze created by their passing as they thundered after Allacan. He glanced back once to see the other horses streaming behind them, and whooped in sheer delight.

They pounded into camp neck to neck, only to pull up at the raised hand of an aethelwigend. The man was scowling. Éo grinned, glanced at the little cavalcade. Allacan, mounted neatly on the blue roan, sans shirt and proudly bearing a banner of filthy trousers was an impressive sight. He, on the other hand, was a grubby, maniacal looking urchin. His torn shirt was stain, his face still streaked with charcoal that even his dunking hadn’t erased, his hair a tangled mess of dried mud and leaves and standing nearly straight up in places. He whooped again in laughter, then tried to sober enough to answer the officer.

“I don’t think,” he tried so hard to keep a straight face, “that we need a haelend, just a place to cook dinner. We’ve the makings for a nice stew, though I suggest people avoid the mushroom in Allacan’s sock.” He couldn’t quite stop the grin as he dismounted, looking around. He still didn’t know many of his comrades in the cavalry yet, as most of his time had been spent in training with the marshal. Slightly uncertain, he glanced at his cousin. He’d follow her lead again, until he got to know the others more. He was friendly enough, but still rather shy in big groups of his countymen.

The pair’s inventory;
- Five horses, three with full tack, the other two with grass-braided girth ropes, one rope-halter and lead and one a normal halter and lead-reins
- A cooking pot
- A mostly-empty water skin
- A holey bucket containing wild garlic and wood blewit mushrooms
- A dead rabbit wrapped in a bloody shirt
- A dagger
- A sliver of flint
- A bundle of firewood tenuously held together by green-wood straps
- Two make-shift throwing spears made from sticks and leaves (with Éolath)
- A pair of trousers affixed to a make-shift throwing spear like a ridiculous banner (with Allacan)
- A sock-pouch containing 1 slightly-chewed tiny mischief mushrooms (with Allacan)
- A pair of gloves (with Éolath)

[Dimcairien Luiniel]

Éomund - In Camp

Apparently he had interrupted Ama at her meal. "Sorry," he muttered, "I forgot you must be just as hungry." She sternly reminded him that he was supposed to have washed. Looking down at his arms he realised just how dirty he must be. "I think my stomach decided food was more important."

As he spoke, she gently took his hand and unwrapped the scarf, tossing it onto a pile of other bandages. Éomund winced a bit as the fabric pulled at the dried blood on his palm. Thankfully it sounded like it was healing nicely, as the words "infection" and stitches both "briefly" caused him to shudder. Ama tightened her grip on his wrist as she prepared to bandage it properly. She advised him that the alcohol would sting and it did. Éomund bit his tongue try to stop himself from crying out, though it didn't stop it entirely, and he flinched, but Ama's grip kept his hand steady as she finished applying the alcohol, followed quickly by honey and a plantain leaf to cover the wound. She asked if he was familiar with the plant and Éomund gave a brief nod. It was common enough where he grew up, but he had never needed to use it before. As Ama finished binding the injury with a strip of cloth, she charged him to keep it dry. Éomond thought about asking how he was supposed to wash, but thought better of it. This was not the place to try and be smart with a hæland. When Ama mentioned that he had done well, Éomund smiled wanly. "I just hope I can make my Da proud," he murmured.

He exited the tent, blinking once again in the sunlight, and came across a great commotion - Something about the First Marshal. So she too was involved in whatever this exercise was. Éomund snorted in laughter at the sight of the muddy woman on the back of a random Cavalry soldier. Whatever had happened to her? "Fædera would love that sight," he thought, trying to take a mental picture of the woman was she was deposited on a log.

As he headed for the river to try and wash off some of the grime, Walpurga came up to him, rather excited that he had made it. "Somehow yes," he sighed, still wondering how he was alive. Noticing her hands, he commented, "You look like you've been thrown to the wolves. Have you seen the hælands yet?" He held up his left hand, "I was an idiot and managed to slice my hand while gutting a dead badger with a sword." He glanced around the gradually filling camp. "Who else is here?" he wondered, though naturally he wouldn't know any of the other members of the Cavalry yet, at least to the point where he felt safe approaching them, aside from Walpurga and now Ama, even if he did recognize them. Without waiting for Walpurga to answer, he made his way down to the river, took of his boots, rolled up his trousers, and sat down on the bank. The cool water washed over his tired feet and let out a long sigh.

[The Good Hunter]

Walpurga, Hiding from the Hælands

She look at her hands. It’s true the gash in her hands from the battle with the wolves was bigger than she’d first dared to admit, but they also didn’t hurt as much as Taethowen had insisted that they must. Even now, the pæthfindian was searching for a hæland to sic on her. That was the last thing she wanted. Of course, Walpurga had no actual reason to want to avoid them, she knew their healing skills outmatched everyone within a hundred leagues and that having someone wrap her hands for her with the right medicine would be a good thing. She, just didn’t want to do it. She hated the healer in Benton, some hedge wizard who was far too handsy and knew far too little about herblore. She was hated being poked and prodded and bothered like she knew she would be. The cuts on her hands, she looked at them again, they weren’t that bad. “Rub some dirt on it” her mother would say when she was younger and she fell and skinned her knees trying to run after the pigs.

As quietly and (likely as futilely) as she could, Walpurga snuck down to the river where Éomund had just arrived. They had started out friends of circumstance, being the only two new recruits, but after some bonding, she found she liked the young man. He was as nervous as a puppy but she adore him for that. They both been volun-told that they were joining Allacan (where was she, had she arrived?) in a… unique dance performance. She laughed softly to herself as she remembered Éomund in the pink sequined beard, she laughed out loud when she remembered he then proceeded to kick Marshal Gwai in the face and gave her a black eye.

“Wolves!” She snorted in derision as she squatted down next to him, looking out for the every vigilant Taethowen. “I didn’t get thrown to the wolves, they got thrown to me.” Upon his mentioning seeing the hælands she shot him a serious look. “No, no I haven’t and if you tell them I was here I will…” what would she do? “I’ll put bugs in your canteen!” She smirked and tried to tip him off balance so he’d fall into the water. “Nearly killed yourself fighting a dead badger? I’m sure that worthy of a nice song and dance. I think everyone is here now, or very nearly. I know Marshal Gwai is here.” She blushed a little but looked away quickly, hoping that Éomund's own blush might distract him from hers.

She looked around again, suspicious of the silence around them. Taethowen would be sending an army of healers her way and she wanted to avoid them as long as possible. She wasn’t going to actually hide like a twelve-year old girl and if she was ordered, she’d have no choice but to obey. She just wanted a few more moments of peace before the hælands did their needlework. She have Éomund another playful shove then dashed off, back to the direction of the camp. If she was found wandering about, she might be able to convince them that she was just getting the lay of the land. This was not too far from the truth, she noted to herself. She could not help be feel like there was something more coming. An elaborate game of "find the apple" was not all they had in store on this training exercise. She heard a rumbling in her stomach and felt the gurgling reach all the way around her middle, reminding her that she was, in fact, very hungry and all she had eaten in the last two days was turkey and apples. She wondered, leisurely, as she meandered between the buildings, what wolf would have tasted like. Rather gamey and stringy probably. Right now though, she wouldn't object to it.

[Shivased]

UPDATE

Now that everyone has arrived at camp it is time to relax and enjoy the evening. Tend to wounds, re-acquaint with comrades, relax, eat, and enjoy the afternoon. The sun shines brightly and doesn't seem quite so hot now that there is water, food, and shelter, and a nice relaxing river to swim in if you so desire. It's almost a holiday!

As everyone goes about their business an Aethelwigend rides to the middle of camp and holds up a hand for silence. With a polite nod to the marshals, he announces There is roasted boar, stew, and wild vegetables over the fires, good mead and ale to be shared, and bedrolls for all. There is even soap and towels for bathing by the river. The Cavalry will spend the night here, and return to Edoras in the morning.

OOC: A bit of an update so people have something to RP with for a bit. One more activity is coming up in the next update (on Friday), but until then enjoy camp, take care of injuries, find clothes (yeah, I'm looking at you @Thalionwen Hunigfolm) and enjoy food! This is a period of free RP for the next bit, to give everyone time to finish off their stories they started during their treck to camp and give any stragglers time to find camp.

For reference, here is a picture of camp:

[Dimcairien Luiniel]

Éomund - In Camp

Éomund was certainly grateful for the familiar face of Walpurga. They were the two newest recruits, so they had formed some strange sort of bond, and probably a good portion of it was related to that … embarrassing incident in the party tent. Why that had to be basically his first Cavalry thing, he had no idea, but it was over and hopefully would never happen again. He still wasn't certain what to think about her, mostly because he had no idea what to think about much of anything right now. Life in Edoras, and in the Cavalry, was as different as could be between his life growing up his hometown.

She sat down next to him as he mentioned the wolves and when she mentioned wolves getting thrown at her, his eyes opened wide in a mix of astonishment and horror. For some reason she did not seem interested in seeing the hælands about her hands and threatened to put bugs in his waterskin if he told them he had seen her. As she said that, she gave him a playful shove. "Hey!" he exclaimed. At the mention of Marshal Gwai, Éomund quickly hid his face. He was still not quite over the incident in the Dragon Room and subsequent aftermath Walpurga proceeded to give him another playful shove, which nearly knocked him into the river, and then dashed off, leaving him to his own devices.

Looking around to make sure he was alone, Éomund pulled his shirt off and rolled his trousers up as far as they could go. At this point he didn't care if they got wet, and hopefully there were clean clothes in one of the wagons, but he had no plans to go completely starkers in the vicinity of so many people. Being careful to stay close to the bank, he had never learned to swim, Éomund sat down in the water, but made sure to keep his left hand dry. He did not want to cause anyone any more disappointment than he already had done. He let out a long sigh and closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of the water all over his body. He was used to dirt and grime, but not combined with everything else that had happened in the last few days.

Cleaning over, he climbed out of the river, his trousers dripping down his legs and onto the grass. Probably it would have been wise to check for clean clothes before getting his old ones wet. At least the water had gotten most of the dirt out of them. Flinging his shirt over his shoulder and picking up his shoes, he made his way towards the wagons.

It was evident by his mussed self that he was in need of clothes. The soldier tending to the wagon asked for his name, and once Éomund had given it, a clean shirt and pair of trousers were handed over. He quickly hurried over to some trees on the outskirts of the camp, but not quite outside of the camp, and changed into the clean, dry clothes. His stomach rumbled once again at the smell of the boar and stew. Such rich food was a welcome change from the bits of apple and dried meat he had survived off of for the duration of this training event.

He wandered over, took the offered food, and sat down on one of the logs by the fire, as far away from the seemingly very annoyed First Marshal. He wasn't certain what to think about the woman quite yet. She had been welcoming enough when he had requested to join the Cavalry, but it was clear she was angry about something. Right now all Éomund cared about was getting some more hot food in his belly and maybe taking a nap.

[Shivased]

Shivased glanced at the river when Gwai said she had floated down it and been able to hope out to swim. That would have been nice, she commented wistfully. Her mind was already working out ways she could go for a swim. The Aethelwigend had said there were towels and soap, and getting the mud off herself. She was glad her hair had been braided and put in a bun, otherwise she would probably have looked like a wild banshee. She idly scratched an itchy patch of mud behind her ear and popped another piece of roast boar in her mouth. She giggled then, thinking of the Third Marshal not sinking this boat. The poor Minnow. It was supposed to be an easy three-hour tour down the river, and we ended up sinking her.

Grimm returned at that point to say he couldn't do what was ordered and that Thali wanted to know if she wanted tea, and the healer wouldn't eat dead things. She was briefly confused about the dead plants, but nodded at Gwai's suggestion of blackberries and bread, then remembered what the Aethelwigend had said. There's some roasted vegetables somehwere, the Aethel said. I guess she can eat that. I don't really want tea, so tell her I'm fine and you don't need to babysit me. But find out where the mead is and bring me that. I could use some mead for sure.

Grimm just nodded and walked away to find the requested items. He quickly found the roasted vegetables and piled a plate full, then located the mead, which he dropped off with the First Marshal. I'll tell the other one about the tea, but don't blame me if I'm back with a cup anyway he told her as he walked away again.

Turning back to Gwai with a grin at Grimm's retreating back she shook her head. I don't need to be with the haelends. Just a sprained ankle and some bruised ribs, and a few badger scratches. If they get me in that tent, I'll never get out, she assured the other woman, then asked Where did they drop you off? And, remembering the comment about a partner, added, Who were you with?

She took a swig of her mead after asking and as she drank noted the newest arrival in camp. The skin of mead dropped slowly into her lap and she stared at Alla and Eolath with five horses, three of which were the most gorgeous things she'd ever seen. Where in the world did they find FIVE horses? she asked in shock.

Meanwhile, at the haelend tent, Grimm approached Thali. He nodded respectfully at Taethowen, and held out the plate. The Marshal doesn't want tea, she says she's fine and I don't have to babysit her. I brought you roasted vegetables. Now what wild goose chase are you going to send me on?

[Allacan ob Burzum]

Allacan, (human, she/her), arriving at camp with Éolath

Allacan wished she could have paid an artist to be present that day, that they might witness the arrival of her and her companion Éolath and immortalise it in tapestry for everyone to laugh over for many years to come.

With her hair whipped about by the wind of their swift ride such that loose strands falling across her face, bereft of shirt with only her cavalry wrappings around her upper torso protecting her dignity and with toned muscles on show, she sat proud and high in the saddle as they approached the outskirts of camp. Her face was flushed from the exertion of the ride, and she was grinning triumphantly. In one hand she carried the makeshift banner of grimy trousers which caught the breeze and flapped absurdly, her other hand holding the reigns in the casual, relaxed manner of an experienced rider. Across her cheeks she had tribal lines of fire ash which complimented her dyed-black hair and black Orcish-Celtic face-tattoo to enforce the appearance of her being some barbaric creature of the wilds.

The horses were all five noble creatures of fine lineage, and had all proven themselves to be calm, disciplined and intelligent beasts; more than likely they would make excellent cavalry mounts for whomsoever they were allocated to (Allacan would challenge anyone who attempted to take the beautiful and foolish palomino mare from her to a dual over rights to the horse, so covetously impassioned had she become for that particular equine, though she dearly hoped it would not come to that). The thundering of their hooves had been a rich declaration of their arrival and had added more so to their hermit-like, dishevelled appearance. The shirt that had wrapped the dead coney had flapped loose during the ride and some of the blood had now smeared across the roan’s flank, the plump rabbit dangling in visible demonstration of their hunting prowess. And her companion, torn-shirted, grubby-faced, ashen-chested whooping as though with delirium was the icing on the cake of their impressive entrance.

Their grand arrival as they forded the river was only partially spoilt by the Aethelwigend who stepped forward to halt them. As Allacan pulled up her horse in an abrupt halt there was a clattering of falling sticks and branches as the bindings on their tenuously tied firewood finally gave way. The bundle clattered to the floor noisily, causing the horses to sidestep almost guiltily away but for the most part unphased and unfrighted by the collapsing woodpile, and proved a distraction long enough that she was able to compose herself a little after their joyous ride.

Éolath once again took the initiative, and Allacan winked mischievously at the Aethelwigend and waggled one boot towards the junior officer at the mention of the mushroom in her sock, which only served to further confuse the man. In spite of their absurd behaviour, Éolath’s words still managed to skilfully convince the man that they were not in need of a Healand and could proceed into camp unharmed; she wondered how much of that was due to her growing reputation as a person of absurd outbursts.

As they finally walked their little herd into the confines of the camp, she turned to her companion with a grin and said “We’ll diplomatically call it a draw, shall we” she said, referring to their race, well aware that had she not cheated by giving herself a head-start that she would have been utterly trounced by Éolath’s superior horsemanship; she suspecting he well knew the same. She dismounted and stepped up to him to shake his hand in the manner of warriors, equals who hold each other in great esteem. “Thanks for the company, it’s been great! I don’t know about you but as much as I’ve enjoyed myself, I’m ready to take a break and some food and drink with friends. I’ll take care of the horses, could you deliver our food contributions and firewood? And then why don’t you take some time to settle into camp, meet some people, maybe get to know the other new recruits a bit and... er... maybe have a wash before you report to the Marshals?” She finished with a wry smile at his ash-smeared chest and tousled hair, neglecting to admit that she likely looked just as, if not more, dishevelled.

As the two of them walked the horses to a convenient space opposite the tents, she noticed Éolath’s sudden hesitation and remembered that he might be shy around the other riders. She spoke in a more private tone as they tied the horses up. “You’ll be fine; go tell them about the demon horse and crazy ex-Marshal you met in the field - I’ve no shame in it and it’ll make them laugh - and they may have their own tales of insanity to share with you. Before you know it you’ll have friends for life.” She said encouragingly, with a small wink, before shoving him away towards the fire where Eomund and Walpurga might be found.

Once she was alone, she gave the horses another brush down with a handful of grass and checked them over to re-assure herself they were well and unharmed by their mad dash across the plains. She removed the trousers from her spear - in case she might need a weapon in a hurry - and then after a moment’s hesitation took up one of the longer sticks from the woodpile and re-attached the trews to this, planted the stave in the ground as a make-shift camp-flag before stepping back with a satisfied sigh to consider her surrounds.

As Éolath went about his own business, she regarded her companion of the last few days appreciatively, before at last turning her focus to the state of the rest of the cavalry encampment and it’s residents therein. She recognised every person there, but also saw weariness, hunger and pain written across many of their faces. Her chest swelled with pride at both her and Éolath’s performance in comparison. While they might have arrived looking like crazed Dunlandings, they were both healthy, and hearty, with provisions and supplies that could have sustained them on the fields and hills another day or so without aid, probably much longer. They had successfully obtained tinder, fire-wood, tools, food, weapons and horses. They had slept well in fairly comfortable beds made by him, warmed and comforted by a fire lit by her. Thanks to Éolath’s quick-thinking they had managed to avoid a potentially lethal confrontation with bandits, and then by employing Allacan’s tracking and stealthing skills had successfully hidden their trail so that the cavalry camp would not fall foul of the criminals’ potentially vengeful reaction. And more so, they had enjoyed themselves, despite the battle for survival in the plains they had found time for laughter and bonding, and cavalry comradeship. For a moment, she was almost sad that the camp had not been even further away; Éolath and she had made a good team, and she was curious what else they might have achieved if they had been alone together in the wilderness a little longer.

However in next moment she spotted the First Marshal Shivased, standing awkwardly with Gwai and looking much the worse for wear, and all thoughts of turning back to the wilds evaporated at the sight of her old friends. She could see the Eastmark Marshal was injured, but as much as Gwai appeared a little concerned she did not exhibit any sign of panic or significant worry to suggest Shiva’s injuries were too serious. Not that Gwai necessarily would have done so even if the First Marshal were on death’s door; the new Meduseld Marshal had a reputation for being unflappably sensible and calm at all times, it was something Allacan had always admired greatly about her.

“Shiva!” She declared enthusiastically, apparently momentarily apathetic about how unprofessional that might appear, motivated by establishing sooner rather than later proper ownership over the horses she and Éolath had brought with them. “Thank you SO much for the gift, my good friend! I had no idea you knew I hadn’t yet chosen a new mount for myself, and she is PERFECT! I’ve always had a soft-spot for Palominos, but I’ve never owned one of my own.” She tried to add as much conviction to her voice as possible, she had become increasingly more convinced that Shiva had not in fact been responsible for the exercise as she had initially thought; the current First Marshal would never have put her soldiers at risk like this by dumping them so poorly equipped in terrain frequented by wolves, orcs, bandits and worse, and on sight of the camp and the injured people within it her conclusion had solidified into certainty. “Éolath was lucky enough to bag himself a wild-mount too; such a skilled young man he is, potential paethfindian material, methinks, if my opinion is worth ought.” She found herself vocalising her tangental thoughts, before swiftly pulling herself back on task.

“In fact, First Marshal, I was so grateful for your *gift* that I absolutely knew I could not turn up at camp without at least an offering of my own in return. A horse for a horse, because... erm... because such a wonderful leader like yourself deserves a horse of her own. As well as Storm, of course, who must be getting on a bit now. A young horse. From her friend. As a gift.” She said, starting to lose cohesion in her thoughts as she gestured towards the three horses taken from the bandits.

An idea suddenly formed in her mind as she saw Shiva and Gwai admiring them. “In fact, when we confiscated these obviously-stolen horses from bandits who tried to assault us on the road - Éolath dealt with them singlehandedly without even needing a weapon, very resourceful person that young man - I just KNEW that it was fate, or Bema’s blessings, that there were exactly three horses for our wonderful three Marshals. A promotion present for Marshal Gwai and MARSHAL TAETH” she said, projecting her voice over Gwai’s shoulder loud enough to catch the attention of the Second Marshal whom she had finally spotted speaking with Thali and Amadhrill in the healand’s tent. “And, erm... a thank you gift for the First Marshal from, erm... the HCMA! Yes, that’s what it is; three gifted horses for the three Marshals from their HCMA.” She nodded, pretending this had been her plan all along when in fact she had only that very moment thought it up, hoping that her charismatic wiles were enough. If she ever hoped to be a paethfindian, she would need her deception and persuasion skills, as well as the ability to communicate to the Marshals with inference and subtlety. If the First Marshal confirmed her suggestions regarding the ownership of all five horses, then few would dare to question it.

“You’ll just, well, have to fight it out amongst yourselves who gets which. The palomino is obviously mine, thanks again Marshal Shiva, and the chestnut is Éolath’s by rights, but the other three you’ll have to squabble over.” She said, suddenly feeling the need to get out of the way of any subsequent bickering. “In the meantime, I’ll... go do a circuit of the camp and check our perimeter is secure. Can’t be too safe given the incompetence we’ve experienced so far. And this looks far too much like badger territory for my liking” she said, more by way of a made up excuse initially, but suddenly growing internally more serious as she made an astute observation of the terrain and considered the more aggressive fauna of the Riddermark, realising she might not actually be wrong. It had been a long time since Allacan had patrolled this close to the Entwade, but the more she looked at the woodlands around her, the more wary she got that she might actually be right, and it was enough to recall her to her duties. In any event, her suspicions served as a convenient enough excuse to extricate herself from the conversation and take some time to do a walk around the vicinity, looking for any threats or - if she was exceedingly lucky - a fresh supply of mischief mushrooms.

Personally equipped with:-
- A knife
- A sliver of flint
- A make-shift pouch sock containing one slightly chewed mischief mushroom
- A single make-shift throwing spear

Contributions to the camp:-
- A cooking pot
- A holey bucket filled with wild garlic and wood blewit mushrooms
- A plump rabbit, as yet unbutchered but somewhat tenderised
- A bloodied shirt
- Three horses for three Marshals, all of which have saddle and tack
- A pile of scattered firewood
- A trouser-flag

@Éolath I assumed you would be keeping your own two make-shift spears, the sword and the water-skin.

[Amadhrill]

In camp hunting after victims, uhm, patients

Ama patted Éomunds back as he murmured that he wanted to make his dad proud. «Make yourself proud, and any parent will be proud of you.» She added gently, feeling a sorrow for the fatherless lad, not allowing herself the thought of her own children growing up with only one parent, always a risk for children of the cavalry's members.

She looked a bit curiously as the First Marshal Shivased was dumped from the back of an Æthelwigend onto a log. The merry greeting and impulsive hug from the other hælend had Ama laugh merrily and return the hug with the hand not holding the bowl. With the laugh her shoulders dropped, some of the tension she had not noticed she carried released itself in the laughter. «Oh, this poor trainee, Eomund got stuck with me, I think I scared the lad, I mean, young man, a few times, but I tried not to. We did a lot of walking together on apples and dried meat... then our patient in there» she nodded her hand towards the dryhtguma resting inside the tent «he was attacked by a badger, quite some blood loss, didn't have much to work with out there, but now he's clean and stitched up, so I pray he will heal well and be ready to serve Rohan for many a year. Éomund, bless him, he is not a hælend, but he might become one, you never know. He fainted at the sight of the bloody dryht, but when he came around again he did a good job assisting me in getting the dryht bandaged as best as we could. Thought he ended cutting himself with the sword, he's a bit clumsy, but I expect with training he'll make a fine soldier.»

Ama's green eyes returned to Shiva on the log and the bandaged foot as Thali spoke and she nodded. «I am planning on having a word or two with the marshals for this as well, sending a trainee out with no weapon training, and we only had one sword to share, no water in scorching heat and no directions!» She shook her head «But I thought it best to have some food and rest before speaking or I might say words that are... not apropriate, let's put it like that...» Ama walked inside the tent again and rummaged through the jars and bags. «There is a bit of chamomille and lavendel, here's a bit of valerian root...» she looked up as the æthelwigend Grimm cleared his throat and handed Thali a plate, getting only a look of dismay from the Eastmark hælend.

«You found the æthelwigend? Was he on this mission, thing... too?» She looked after him for a moment, then returned to see what they could find to ease the First Marshal's temper. The noise of someone clearing their throat made her turn around and straighten herself up to the words of the Third Marshal. «Yes, of course, Marshal Taethowen. I'll get straight to it.»

She handed the assortments of dried herbs and roots to Thali, took another spoonful of her now cold stew and walked out of the tent, just as Allacan started her... speech of sort, making the hælend stiffle a laugh and shake her head at the same time. Her eyes searched for the black haired, blue eyed trainee, while making a mental note to seek out Éomund and ask him to check if the dryhtguma's horse had been unsaddled and given food and care, and to empty the saddle bags if no one had thought to do that. And she still needed to change and wash herself properly.

Someone announced that there were food, ale, bedrolls, even soap and clothes for all, and she promised herself, find the trainee and patch her up, then a proper wash, some clean clothes, food, and sweet, sweet rest! The assistants could watch the dryhtguma and wake her if needed...

Ah, there, wandering about the camp was someone with black hair. Ama's light steps quickened and she put her hand on the black-haired's shoulder. «You must be cavalry trainee Walpurga, rumour has it that you have had an unpleasant meeting with wolves?» Her green eyes glanced at the trainees hands, holding the shoulder firmly. «I am Amadhrill, hælend of the Meduseld eored, come along to the hælend tent». The voice was gentle, but firm, leaving no doubt as to the words intention of order rather than invitation.

[Thalionwen Hunigfolm]

Thalionwen, doing haelend things

"Uuum..." Thalionwen had started to say, in response to Taethowen's admittedly vague and confusing query about mysterious injuries, when someone bellowed across camp and her friend vanished. Straightening up with a cup of hot herbal tea in her hand (thanks to Amadhrill's help with the herbs) Thali found Grimm back in the tent and giving her a long-suffering look.

"The Marshal doesn't want tea, she says she's fine and I don't have to babysit her," he said wearily. "I brought you roasted vegetables. Now what wild goose chase are you going to send me on?"

"None," Thali said, her voice firm. A look of palpable relief crossed the Aethelwigend's face. "In fact, if the First Marshal doesn't want her tea, you can sit down and drink it. You haven't had quite the rough time the rest of us did, but you still carried Shivased a good few miles, which I thank you for."

With a weighty sigh, Grimm settled down on the edge of one of the cots, and Thali handed the mug to him. She settled herself across the aisle and picked at the vegetables on her plate--it wasn't often haelends had a lull to take advantage of.

"You know, I'm good at this," Thalionwen said abruptly to Grimm as the silence stretched on between them. "At being a healer, I mean. People tend to think I must not be, because of how I am with other things, but I'm very good at it. Sometimes I think maybe it's the only thing I am any good at."

Her voice trailed off and she stared down at her plate.

"I never said or thought that you're anything but an accomplished haelend," Grimm told her, choosing his words with obvious care. "And maybe I think the way you went about a few things out there was...well, it wasn't what I would've done. But everything worked out alright for you, didn't it? You found some poor farmer's horse, found your Marshal and got her back here more or less safe and sound. I don't really want to know about the boots you've got on, but whatever happened with those, you made it out in one piece. You could be doing worse."

"I just...I don't know how to lead with my head," Thali told him, still refusing to look up. "That's what my modor used to say. You lead with your heart and not with your head, Thalionwen, and you'll end up with both of them broken in the end."

"I hope not," Grimm offered, and Thali left her plate behind to rummage through a camp desk in the corner. Scribbling away for a minute, she returned and held out a piece of paper to the Aethelwigend, along with a small burlap-wrapped item.

"Here," she said. "You're just about done with that tea. Take this to the First Marshal won't you, with my regards?"

Willingly this time, Grimm got to his feet and did as she asked.

*********
"I'm sorry to keep interrupting," Grimm offered, as he reappeared beside Shivased and Gwai. "The one in the nightgown wanted me to give you this. But she made me drink your tea, First Marshal, so you won't have to."

He held out the rough paper to Shivased, on which was written the following, in an untidy, poorly-spelled hand.

Tretment for the First Marshal, recwired by her haelend on penalty of scolding

1. a flagon of mead (already provided by Grimm)
2. a wash in the river
3. fresh clothes
4. a fresh bandage for that ancle and some more willow bark, i PROMISE you'll be strate in and out of the tent, dont make me come and find you, plese, im tired of running around Rohan and these boots have given me an awful lot of blisters, plus you'll only make your sprain worse
5. another flagon of mead also provided by Grimm but only once your clean and bandaged

Grimm handed Shivased the small burlap bundle next, which when opened, proved to contain a bar of goat's milk soap, scented with lavender and chamomile.

[Elarith]

Elarith, finally getting some non-berry food and rid of a saddle

Elarith followed the smell of food towards the fires at the middle of the camp. The hunger was so strong that the fact that most of her left-hand side was dripping wet hadn't really registered until Dicun mentioned it. "Ah, yeah, well I've had worse happen to me on Cav business. It'll dry soon enough in this weather and by the fires," she replied, hoisting the saddle up a bit. "I could murder a badger burger. Do you think they've got badger burgers? Please have badger burgers..." she murmured.

A dryhtguma pointed her towards a provisions pile off to one side by the tents. Elarith was loathe to leave the food any longer than she had to, but she was sick of mauling the saddle around too, so she quickly went and dropped it off before returning to sit on a log by the fire. She was handed a bowl and tucked in without ceremony. It wasn't a badger burger but the stew and roasted boar was good enough. Mopping the dregs up with a chunk of bread, she then popped it in her mouth and shut her eyes, enjoying having something more substantial than blackberries in her stomach. "I'm not sure if it's just because I'm starving but that was one of the best things I have ever eaten," she said. A mug of mead to wash it down and she was almost in heaven.

Feeling sleepy again from the fire, food and mead, Elarith had to forced her eyelids open to see who else was around. It looked like quite a few others had sustained some injuries. As she watched a lass she didn't recognise was seized by Amadhrill and steered off towards the haelends' tent. She tried not to snigger. Dodging the haelends had been almost a game back in the day, but she knew they meant well and it was usually better to get it over and done with. She thought that herself and Dicun had had a rough time of things but maybe they'd gotten off lightly?

Another unfamiliar face was sitting across the way, also seemingly trying to look inconspicuous. Elarith nodded at Éomund. "All right? How'd you fare?"

[Éolath]

Éolath smiled uncertainly but gamely at Allacan as she finally pushed him towards the fire where a small group sat. Turning, he took a few steps backwards to call to her, “You should bathe as well,” laughter followed this shout, though he had rather come to enjoy the designs on her face. But he would like a fresh shirt, he thought.

Deciding that was a first step, he gathered a bundle shyly from the wagon, sniffed suspiciously at the small sliver of soap. He didn’t want to smell like a flower…though that would be better than the current aroma of sweat, blood and dirt. He was pleased enough with the light musky scent, and trotted towards the river after asking for a sword cleaning kit as well. He couldn’t see anyone else nearby, so he stripped out of his filthy, stained clothes and dove into the river. The cool water was refreshing after the ride in the sun, and the sandy bar and soap had him scrubbed pink in no time.

He swam up river, then floated lazily back down before his stomach rumbled. Must be nearly time for supper, he thought, and climbed into the fresh clothes. He managed to run his fingers through his unruly curls though it was by no means enough to fully untangle the mess. But it got it out of his face, and that was enough for now.

Back near the fire, he dumped his clothes in a pile of scraps and went to check on the horses. Everything seemed fine, with Allacan busy near the marshals. He waved hesitantly, then gathered up his spears and went for food. The bowl of stew made his stomach rumble again, and he sat near the fire and didn’t say much until he was scraping the bowl. Then, sheepishly, he glanced around to find two faces he’d seen before but didn’t know well (Elarith and Eomund).

“Uhm, hey,” he mumbled, flushing a little. “I’m Éo.” He said by way of introduction. He finished scraping his bowl, then dug out the bit of oilcloth and wetstone he’d begged earlier. The sword he’d confiscated from the bandits was good steel under the neglect. “I came in with Allacan – did you come in together?”

[Taethowen]

Taethowen, Waiting Awkwardly on Thalionwen to Respond, and Having a Moment with a Mare

Thali and Amadhrill had both turned to her when she cleared her throat, and she nodded gratefully as Hælend Amadhrill's gaze turned serious, and she finished up a couple small things and then headed into the camp to find the trainee Walpurga.

Before Thali could respond to her inquiry, though, Æthelwigend Grimm strode up, and then Taeth heard her name fairly bellowed across the site by... Allacan? She turned to see, and the sight that met her eyes made her forget that she'd even been talking to Thalionwen, and somehow without a thought, her feet brought her across clearing, eyes fastened on one of the mares, her heart suddenly pounding.

It can't be, she thought. But no one else bred a horse with that coloring, that I know. But... surely not. It would be impossible.

She barely heard Allacan saying that the horses were her gifts to the new marshals, barely heard the claims already laid on the palamino and the chestnut. But it didn't matter, because her gaze was fixed on the blue roan, and she found herself caught in the midst of a memory long-forgotten. It was not one forgotten because of her illness, though. It was one she'd forced herself to forget because it hurt too much.

A memory of a night in a stable, at Ærn Anhyrne, just a few months before she left for Edoras to join the Cavalry. Away from the harsh words and overbearing gaze of her stepfather, tending to one of the last pregnant mares of the season. A memory of a long, tedious labor, without even a stablehand to help her, because even though she owned the lands, the breeding lines, and even the very house the whole family lived in, she was trying not to ruffle her stepfather's feathers, for her own sake, and so she'd not fought when he dismissed all the remaining staff--what little there was--that remained who had served her late father.

She and the mare had birthed a little filly that night, some fourteen years ago. A little blue roan, with the purest blue coat she'd ever seen, and one other defining feature that would let her know if this blue roan was that same filly.

The camp faded away around her as she slowly took the reins and led the mare to a quiet spot. Taeth somehow kept her trembling hands from fumbling as she unsaddled the horse, making quick work of the buckles and straps with the practiced ease of one who'd grown up riding practically before she could even walk. All the while, she murmured soft words under her breath, sometimes with the hint of a melody that she only vaguely recalled, watching as the mare's ears flickered around with interest. She somehow noticed a passing sperewigend, and ordered them to bring her a halter.

A dark patch on the mare's flank caught her attention, and her eyes widened as her fingers came away tinged with red, but she quickly wiped at the spot with her sleeve, and then checked it over with her fingers, but could find no wound. While the presence of blood was baffling, she was relieved that it did not seem to belong to the mare at all.

The sperewigend returned with the halter then, and Taeth finally slipped the bit and bridle off the mare's head and swapped it for the halter. Then she stood back and looked at the horse, from nose to tail, over every curve and line of its composition, to see if it matched what she had expected from that filly.

It was obviously malnourished, and she wondered where Allacan had found it for it to be in such a state, but even so the conformation of it was very, very familiar. The blue coat was as solid as she could have hoped for it to be, with none of the white leakage that was so easy to slip through. But the feature her father had been working toward breeding, the one that she'd thought she'd finally started to crack, would be the final identifier. The filly... it hadn't been nearly there by any means, but it had been a step closer.

Carefully, so as not to spook the mare because it wouldn't know her after so long of a time, Taeth stepped back up to it and ran her fingers through its mane, searching. There. Something that most other breeders would consider a flaw if they were looking for a true blue roan, but in this case it was the beginning of what her father and she had been working toward. A blue roan with a solid blue coat and a white mane and tail, instead of the traditional black.

"It is you!" Taeth breathed, stroking along the mare's neck with a steady hand, exposing several stripes of white, not skin but hair, scattered through the underside of the mare's mane. "It really is."

Taeth found that she was suddenly blinking back tears, even as soft laughter escaped her. The mare was still, waiting patiently, and Taeth came around to stand in front of her, reaching up to stroke her soft, dark nose. "I never thought I'd see you again," Taeth murmured as she gazed into the mare's dark eyes. "But what shall I call you? I never had the chance to name you then, and I'm sure that any name you had is long lost now." Then a silly thought occurred to her, and she smiled just a little mischievously. "What about Gefyrst?"

The mare snorted and stamped a hoof, but it didn't pull away from Taeth's touch, and she smiled. "Gefyrst it is."

Then, the sounds of camp came rushing back around her, and she pulled herself away, turning to where the First Marshal waited nearby.

"The blue roan's mine," Taeth stated. "Not just claiming today, but it's mine. I bred this mare, helped its mother birth it in the Anhyrne stables. I have no idea how Allacan happened across it today, but this mare is part of my family's missing stock, and even if it had been sold, it should never have been wandering the wilds like this, or ended up in this kind of condition. But she is mine, no matter what."

With reluctance, she handed the horse over to one of the dryhtguma's to place with the other horses. Taeth wished to simply go and care for the horse herself, now, but she was one of those in charge, now, and couldn't afford to spend that much time distracted by a horse. Plus, she still had unfinished business with Thalionwen.

As she made her way back to the hælend's tent, blinking the last of the tears from her eyes, she noticed stacks of clean clothing, some towels, and even soap. Recalling that Thali was wearing only a nightgown and some nasty looking boots, for whatever reason, Taeth retrieved a couple sets of fresh clothing, and then towels and soap for each of them, before she arrived at the hælend's tent again.

"Here," she said, shoving half of what she'd collected into Thali's hands, then shooing her friend out of the hælend's tent and toward the river. "We both need freshening up, and I still need to have your... help. With the thing I mentioned earlier."

[The Good Hunter]

Walpurga, accepting fate

When the hand touched her shoulder, her initial instincts would have been to jump and assume a defensive position. She was not normally one for being touched by others but since she knew all of this was coming she did not startle. She slowly turned to face the woman, her reverie broken. She smiled inwardly. At least it was not the one she’d noticed riding in with the First Marshal, the heady intensity of the woman made Walpurga anxious. This hæland seemed less severe. Her smile was kind and her words were intractable but gentle.

“Aye, I suppose Tae… Marshal Taethowen,” she had heard her training exercise partner called that by a few people since they’d arrived in camp, she felt like an utter buffoon for the overly friendly way she'd behaved on the mission. “told you about our encounter?” resigned to her fate, Walpurga followed the woman to the hæland tent.

Not a few steps in, her stomach growled; a deep, sonorous sound that reverberated through her. She felt like the entire camp could heard her. She didn't understand why het stomach decided to betray and embarrass her either. She had eaten just that morning! She had tried to eat one of the apples from the random assortment of items they had been given but the apple she picked happened to be a tart granny smith and she could only stomach a few bites. She hated granny smith apples. She remembered trying to eat one her mother had intended for the pigs and the feeling of utter despair at tasting what she thought was going to be a sweet, juicy apple only to be met with a horridly sour thing that made her teeth hurt. She'd thrown the thing so hard against the barn door in disgust that it had exploded. That memory, at least, made her smile.

In an attempt the distract herself from the impending waves of hunger, Walpurga looked at her hands, apparently the source of all concern and consternation for her this morning. Her hands were far from delicate, rough calluses from years of farmwork and horse (well pony) riding, could be found everywhere. She traced the bumps and ridges absentmindedly. The wounds still did not look deep or worth any amount of worry. They didn't hurt, not really. One gash could be traced from between her index and middle finger down to nearly the center of her palm on her left hand, on her right were three similar gashes but none near as long. They hurt a few hours ago, after the thrill of the fight had worn of, but now it was more a dull ache, a throb that reminded her of what had happened. Hopefully this would not take long. The growing her stomach was not going to go away any time soon.

[Amadhrill]

Amadhrill – the Hælends' tent

It was only as she put her hand on Walpurgas shoulder that Ama realized how she must look; her face, arms, and hands were clean, the rest, however, were not so. Her clothes were dusty and dirty from the travel, and splattered here and there with blood from the dryhtguma Osbert, and after two days of walking in the sun, there was an odour of sweat around her. But she would have to wait to get properly cleaned up until she could be spared for a few minutes. She smiled as the trainee was about to say Taeth, but took herself in it and corrected it to marshal Taethowen, there was a time for familiarity and a time for formality.

«The marshal told me that you were bitten by a wolf, but that I would need to ask you for the whole tale...» she had barely taken two steps when the lass' stomach growled loudly. «Have you had any food yet, Walpurga? Are you like Éomund, sent out without training as well?»

There was a moment of thoughtfulness in her face at the last comment, then she passed a sperewigend in clean clothes. «Bring me a bowl of stew and some bread to the hælends' tent, please.» She half asked, half ordered the wigend, who immidiately nodded «Yes, ma'am.» and set off towards the camp fire.

«In case that was from hunger and not eating too quickly...» Ama explained with a smile as they entered into the tent just as Thali and Taeth exited with towels, fresh clothes, and soap. Ama nodded her head in greeting as she passed them and led the way into one of the empty cots. «Tell me what happened.»

Ama washed her own hands thoroughly in the small wash basin. Then she found the bottle of alcohol and some clean rags, keeping her eyes on the trainee and effectivly and discreetly blocking any exits. All the time she moved around and listened to the story, finding the right herbs, tinctures, and poultices. When she appeared to have found all she needed, she spoke softly. «Your hands, please.»

The green eyes of the hælend looked the hands carefully over. The gashes might not be too deep, but when it came to animal bites there were always the risk of rabies or tetanus, in addition to the usual complications that could arise from any wound; infections, blood poisoning... «Wolves very seldom attack, did the wolves strike you as ill? More agressive than should be expected? This will sting.»

She took one of the hands in a firm grip and started dabbing it softly and carefully into the wounds to clean it properly.

[Allacan ob Burzum]

Allacan, (human, she/her), scouting the camp perimeter

Taethowen answered her calls as though walking in a daze. For a moment, she seemed to move with the grace and ethereal mystery of the elves as she stepped towards the lovely blue roan horse, seemedly oblivious to anyone who might be trying to interact with her. Additionally, both the other two Marshals seemed momentarily distracted by either the horses or their Marshal comrade.

Meanwhile Allacan had spotted Amadhrill and had suddenly recalled that the last time she had seen the Hælend at her physical, she had made assurances that she would replace her old, tired boots with some more supportive ones to counter her flat arches and avoid; assurances that she had yet to make good on, as she glanced down at her old, tired, very battered footwear. To make matters worse, somehow Thalionwen had also been made aware of her condition and she had similar promises to this woman also, and she was confident the Eastmark Healand had likely taken it upon herself to follow up on her Meduseld-counterpart’s recommendation. While both medics seemed for the moment distracted by injured warriors, Allacan was pretty sure that as soon as one of both of them were free they would spot her (or more accurately, her inadequate footwear) and they would bear down on her with the fury of... well... of a righteous Hælend (and make no mistake, such a thing was one of the most feared creatures to serve the cavalry). And she had a feeling that no matter what excuses, even these woman would not accept an assault in the Riddermarket and hunting down wannabe-assassins as tolerable reasons to neglect her own health.

Fearful of being cornered by the pair of Hælends she suddenly felt a keen desire to be elsewhere. She glanced back to the hypnotised Taethowen, stepped further away from where Shivased and Gwai were standing. “Oooooh-kayeee then. I’ll just be... over here for a bit. Byeeeeeee.” She said quietly as she side-stepped away with faux stealth and slipped out of sight into the foliage surrounding the camp.

She took a moment to herself, waiting to allow her senses to adjust themselves to a mindful awareness of her surroundings. She inhaled a long, deep breath to scent the air, the scents of woodsmoke, horse and cooked food fading as she stepped forward into earthy loan and forest brush. She listened until the sounds of the camp - conversation between comrades, the crackling of fire, the creaking of leather and the sound of a weapon being polished - shifted out of focus and she began to hear instead the sounds of the wind in the branches, birdsong overhead and became presently aware of her own breathing. She watched the forest until she felt her own heart starting to time itself against the slow shifting, the sunlight glimmer between the canopy to dance across the woodland floor below. She reached down with one hand to take up a small handful of dirt and detritus, crushing leaves in her hands so that their sharp, brittle texture mixed with the grainy granules of dirt as she sprinkled them back out again.

Then she hefted the makeshift throwing spear in her hand, re-familiarising herself with its heft and the feel of its haft where she had peeled away the bark on then freshly cut branch to reveal the smooth green-wood beneath, scoring marks into the wood to mark the best position for her grip when throwing it as determined from a number of test flights. She noted the leaf-flights in their scored notches had wilted and needed replacing, and the tip had lost some of its sharpness from repeated throws and spearing of the rabbit earlier. She smiled a little at the way the blood had stained the tip, she rather liked it, but it would need sharpening.

She leant the spear against a tree and reached for the huntsman’s knife at her belt. Closing her hand around the handle she focussing her thoughts on its balance, it’s weight, how it felt in her hand, until she began to feel more aligned to the weapon in her hand. She swiftly whittled the point on the spear back to sharpness, but managed to leave a little of the blooded stain further down the tip; it would fly a touch slower and pierce wider as a result; a thicker tip like this was more suited to fending off larger creatures of cutting through thick hide than a thinner one that was meant for precision and speed. Given she ddidn’t think she would need to hunt for herself that suited her just fine - the only reason she had not thrown the whole thing on the fire and asked for a spear was because she wanted to savour just a little longer the feeling of being independent and self-reliant. She cut some suitably shaped leaves from a nearby bush and, splitting them neatly in half, fed them into the flight tracks grooves she had cut into the other end of the spear. She, moving the spear swiftly through the air as if to throw it but not actually releasing, to check that the flights would not be dislodged by launching the weapon and, satisfied with her repair-work, turned her attention back on her surrounds.

The river was only a short way to her right and she has a clear sight of the shallow, muddy embankment still marked by the hooves from her earlier crossing with five horses and Éolath. Looking ahead she could she trees and bushes interspersed with clearings that looked like they might make similarly comfortable campsites, the surroundings undergrowth would serve well to muffle sound and allow the cavalry soldiers the liberty to sing and laugh late into the night if they wished. She suspected that the support crew for this mission would be similarly camped somewhere nearby, or perhaps there was an outpost near here that she had forgotten about, and she was half tempted to go in search for them and try some pranks on them in return for the torment the elite group had been put through, but then recalled the very clear orders the Aethelwigend’s had stated that ‘You are not allowed to leave camp without express permission of a Marshal’. Well, Allacan has certainly not hung around long enough to request that; she had been too busy trying to distract them with pretty horses for that, and she did not want to risk the wrath of the Hælends to return for it. So she settled for her original plan of scouting the perimeter; she could still reasonably argue that she had not *left* camp if she was still within aural distance of it, and no further than one might wander to collect firewood.

With her spear in her right hand and her knife in the left, she paced a little further away from the old camp, before turning and choosing a route that would circle the camp only a hundred or so feet away from its borders. She kept her ears sharp and her eyes focussed on the terrain around her, watching for signs of tracks or animal trails, or any other telltale signs. She easily located the about beaten path the cavalry supply caravans had taken, mud churned up and trodden back down again by wheels and hooves and boots, and momentarily stared wistfully up the path as though mourning the fun she could have had playing late night pranks on the support crew. Shaking herself from her reverie, she passed onwards, back into the undisturbed undergrowth, taking care to step where the ground was soft to reduce any sound she might make.

She had moved through the trees a little further and was now north-west of the camp by her reckoning, in the trees behind the Healand tent, when her eyes caught sight of something fuzzy caught on the bark of a tree low to the ground. She crouched, pulling the strands of fur away from the tree and considering them. Black, think and a touch too long and too highly positioned to be a small rodent, but likely too low and too sparse to be a bear. The remaining possibilities were not good; a wolverine, a wildcat, a wolf... or a badger. She tried to sniff at it, to taste it, but the fur had been exposed to the elements for too long to leave any further distinguishers that might help her narrow down her short-list.

She continued in her circuit, even more warily, at one point freezing in place, spear and knife at the ready, as she heard something shifting in the undergrowth ahead, only for the creature (whatever it was) to catch scent of her and retreat further into the woodlands. When she closed on its position, silently cursing the fact she had been unlucky enough to approach it from upwind, she could see just the faintest animal trail cutting through and beneath the thickness of the low-lying undergrowth. The ground was too dry to have left any prints to identify the nature of the beast she had disturbed, but the trail was easily wide enough to be frequented by larger predators, and not only their prey. It would be a good spot for a snare, if she had one, but for now she merely logged it for for further consideration.

She moved on, the sounds of the running water confirming she had almost finished her circuit and would soon be approaching the camp from behind the trees to the west of where the horses were tethered. She was already considering turning around and doing a return circuit to collect some of the fallen deadwood she had spotted as extra fuel for the fire when her eyes caught sight of an unnatural shape in a clearing off to her right. She walked cautiously towards it, hesitating at the clearing edge wary of a trap or assault even this close to the cavalry camp (it never hurt to be cautious) before stepping up to examine... a supply crate. With cavalry markings. What was it doing out here? She stepped forward to poke her knife at the lid in an attempt to open it, and immediately leapt back in disgust is she saw something small squirm out from the lid as she touched it. She reached out with her spear this time, trying to keep herself as far from the crate as possible as she tipped the lid open and tipped it onto the floor.

A supply-crate of grain had been allowed to go bad, and had become infested with maggots. The support caravan staff had probably not realised it until they had gotten here, and then it seemed they had opted to dump the whole crate in the wilderness rather than disposing of it properly in a manner that would not attract predators. The sight of the writhing, wriggling mass of little insect made Allacan double over and wretch, and she stepped away towards the trees and took a moment to calm her thoughts and take control of her senses. In that moment, as she was bent two, her eyes suddenly fell on something she had not spotted in her distraction over the chest. There, in a soft patch of ground near the edge of the clearing, masked by long-grasses unless you stood directly over them, were tracks. Long-clawed, soft-padded, mustelid tracks. She slowly lifted her head and, viewing the box from a new angle, realised that lower far corner of the box relative to her original approach had been chewed upon, and there were deep grooves scratch-marks across its far side.

There was a sudden shifting in the bushes behind her of something diving out from hiding, and taken by surprise she whirled around in a desperate attempt to bring spear and blade up defensively, inhaling quickly in the hopes she would have time to shout out a warning cry of the word that now resounded round her head. Badger!

Personally equipped with:-
- A knife
- A sliver of flint
- A make-shift pouch sock containing one slightly chewed mischief mushroom
- A single make-shift throwing spear

[The Good Hunter]

Walpurga, being Hælanded

Walpurga was not one normally to be smug, but she could not help the dimpled smile that appeared on her lips. “I wouldn’t say so much bitten as scratched when I was scratched ripping the wolves jaws apart.” She stood up a little straighter when she said that, remembering the feeling ecstatic rage that coursed through her as she dispatched the wolf that had nearly blindsided Marshal Taethowen. “I was protecting Tae…” again she nearly slipped, “the Marshal when the wolf attacked. I’m used to them, living on a small village on the edge of oblivion. They’re a menace, yes, but nothing I can’t deal with. If I had had more than a canoe oar and my bare hands I would have faired better. Maybe, who can say.” Her confidence fizzled near the end, realizing that wolves would be the very least of her enemies in the Cavalry.

She blushed when the hæland asked her about the food, the taste of the bitterly sour apple in her mouth again. “I had a granny smith apple. That’s about it,” when Amadhrill mentioned Éomund she felt oddly protective. “What are these training exercises for but to make us ready? He may have nearly chopped his hand of trying to gut a badger, but he has many qualities that a single mission can’t possibly portray.” She clamped her mouth tight, her mind registering that she might have been a tad too forceful. Without another word of protest, Walpurga held out her hand for the healer to examine. She still didn’t know why all the fuss over a few bite marks. The wolves had been aggressive but that in and over itself was not unusual, not when food was involved and they have the numbers. She and the Marshal had been fortunate it had only been a small pack, even Walpurga could not take on a back of six or more wolves.

“Vána, mother of horses!” Walpurga howled as Amadhrill applied the alcohol to her hands. "You weren't kidding." She had expected the substance to sting but somehow she had been caught off guard. She had been lulled into a sense of calm by the pleasant conversation with the hæland. Still, she managed to keep from jerking her hand back, fighting to instinct to lash and knock the offending liquid away. She bit her tongue, focusing the pain that she could deal with rather than the shivering shards of burning ice currently being forced through her hands.

[Thalionwen Hunigfolm]

Thalionwen, Taken Aback

"But Amadhrill needs a break, too--" Thali began to protest, as Taethowen shepherded her out of the haelends' tent and she caught sight of her fellow healer, reentering the tent with a trainee in tow.

Taeth would not be put off though, and before long the two had found a secluded spot and gone up to their shoulders in the cold river, while clothes and towels remained on the bank. While the thought of Amadhrill and Shivased and even Grimm still needing a wash and a change weighed on Thali, she couldn't help but grin at the sound of birdsong and the clean, cool touch of the water.

"Reminds me of when we were younger and wilder," Thali said to Taeth, only to gape like a fish as Taeth turned her back and Thali caught sight of a number of suspicious bruises along her shoulders.

"Or perhaps when I was younger and wilder, and you were just younger," Thali said pointedly. "Is this what you were babbling about before? It is inadvisable to let another person do...private things...that break skin, the human mouth is upsettingly unclean, you'll get an infection!"

Without waiting for an answer, Thalionwen bobbed over and gave Taeth's personal injuries a closer look.

"Well, you're alright," she said, though displeasure still showed on her face. "Those are all healing up just fine on their own, and you can let them be. But if this is the sort of diversion from the Cavalry you enjoy, you really ought to come down to the Infirmary and get a special packet I put together for interested parties. I don't just patch up ragged soldiers anymore, I offer a great deal of advice and help for all sorts of ailments and issues."

Thali gave her friend a long-suffering frown, unconsciously mirroring the sober-natured Grimm.

"I call the packet you want my Naughty Wench Box," Thali added helpfully, entirely spoiling the effect of her serious look. "It's got all sorts of helpful bits and bobs in it, as well some lovely scented oils. Who are you sneaking about with, anywa--BEMA'S HORN, IT'S FROST, ISN'T IT??? TAETHOWEN ANHYRNE, HE HAS STABLED HIS PONY IN EVERY BARN FROM HERE TO ANGMAR! Which isn't to say you shouldn't do what you want, or that he's not a good groom because of his equine care habits, it just means you really really need my little box. And he does too. Well, he maybe needs several dozen of them. You do know he's got children scattered all over the place, like feral cats? I've even got one of his offspring, NO NOT LIKE THAT, it's this strange dragon-like creature that hatched from an egg and latched onto both of us, and you know I can never resist something pathetic and ugly. No, Thali, you're rambling--TAETHOWEN. For your own good, please come see me about this outside of a Cavalry capacity, as soon as you can."

[Dimcairien Luiniel]

Éomond

As he was eating, someone he didn't recognise (Elarith) sat down nearby and inquired as to how things had gone. Éomund looked up at the woman. "Alright, I guess," he said, quickly trying to swallow the bite of food that was in his mouth. "Not what I expected for my first Cavalry event though." He eyed the woman curiously, wondering who she was and what her role in the Cavalry was. There were so many people to keep track of, he wasn't certain if he would ever be able to process it. Perhaps things would be a bit easier when everyone was in their proper uniforms. He really didn't know how to address anyone, especially without knowing their rank. "I'm Éomund, by the way, … ma'am." If he didn't know what rank she held, hopefully the general word would suffice. If there was one good thing his mother had instilled in him, it was a respect for his seniors.

As he was trying to eat another mouthful of stew, yet another individual sat down (Éo), who quickly finished his stew and began polish a sword. Éomund looked over with intrigue. Would he ever be capable of such an act? He looked down at his bandaged, and still slightly sore, hand. Curse his clumsiness. When Éo asked if he had come with Elarith, Éomund quickly shook his head. "No, I was with the hæland Amadhrill."

Éomund was about halfway through his bowl of stew when he suddenly remembered the horse. Placing his bowl of stew on the ground, and without saying a word to the other two individuals seated nearby, he got up and dashed towards the hæland's tent, knowing that Ama had taken the horse in that direction. If it had been his horse Sunbeorht, he never would have forgotten to take care of her before seeking out food, but his head clearly hadn't been in the right place after two days out in the middle of nowhere. As it was, he hoped that one of the various soldiers who had already been in the camp had taken care of the horse after Ama had gotten Osbert into the tent. But he didn't know, so it was best to check and make sure.

The horse wasn't anywhere close to the hæland's tent, which worried him for a minute. But a quick glance around the camp, which wasn't overly huge, showed that all the horses were enjoying a much needed rest in the shade and that all had been properly removed of their various states of equipment and had been brushed down. Éomund wandered over and noticed Osbert's horse, looking a bit worse for wear after the adventure, but quietly enjoying a meal. He breathed a long sigh of relief and hoped that his horse was doing the same, likely still in the Cavalry stables.

There was something relaxing about simply standing there, observing all the horses. One in particular stood out to him - a blue roan. It was beautiful and he was immediately curious as to whom it might belong to.

[Shivased]

UPDATE

As everyone goes about their business in camp, nobody notices the small signs of danger around camp. Clawed footprints hidden in the long grass by the river, a pile of droppings in the woods, the rustle of leaves and quiet sound of snuffling that can occasionally be heard if someone were paying attention. But the quiet location of the camp, the soothing sound of the river, and the exhaustion of being in the wild for two days with no supplies seems to have lulled most of the Cavalry into a false sense of security.

Suddenly, there is a crash, a series of screeches and growls, and Allacan comes running into camp from the direction of the river.

BADGER! BADGER! BADGER ATTACK!

The Dryhtguma is shouting the alarm, and at the same time wigends in the north-west corner by the haelend tent and north-east corner by the command tent start shouting about badgers as well. The camp springs into action.

EASTMARK, TO ME! Shivased yells, forgetting her injury and leaping up and onto the horse that had been gifted to her and heading towards the north-west corner of camp, by the haelend tent. WESTMARK, TAKE THE SOUTH-EAST! MEDUSELD, THE NORTH-EAST! GET WHAT WEAPONS YOU CAN AND DEFEND THE CAMP!

Weapons are brought out of the command tent in a hurry by frantic sperewigends as badgers charge into camp from three directions - swords, a woefully small number of shields, and a few spears. It isn't much, but it's better than bare hands or sticks!

Glancing at the warriors racing around camp she picks out one. @Eldrith Head to the horses! Stay with them!

---

BADGERS HAVE ATTACKED!

The above update explains it all. Eastmark, head to the side of the haelend tent, Meduseld the side of the Command tent, and Westmark to the river! Trainees and those without eoreds, choose which eored you would like to serve in and join them in the battle! This is more free-RP than anything, so defeat the badgers as you see fit, but watch for any orders from your marshals.

There is a small supply of weapons available, but it isn't enough for everyone so do your best!

Also, for reference, a map of camp with flags for each eored's position:

[Gwai]

Gwai nodded empathetically as Shivased tried to avoid the haelends’ tent. “I’m just glad you’re not seriously injured,” she said, relieved. “I’d avoid the tent too. Who knows what sort of foul ministrations they would force down your throat!” she said with a theatrical shudder, smiling to show she was teasing.

She quickly became serious once more. “I was dropped off on the outskirts of Fangorn. I was with Rowena. We walked to the Entwash, and spent the night on the banks upstream from here,” she pointed toward the north. “But when I hopped in the boat in the morning, I was immediately caught in a strong current, and I didn’t have an oar to turn it back to shore,” she explained. Worried, she added, “Hopefully the dryhtgumas that were sent out find her will have success. I cannot imagine she would not have followed the river. We may need to mount a rescue mission otherwise,” she said, frowning, concerned.

Beginning to think Grimm was possibly the most overworked person in the entire cavalry, as he made several trips with tea, then back to Thali, and back to Shivased once more, he returned this time with a bundle containing soap and a note. The smell from the small bundle was pleasant, but Gwai was immediately distracted when Allacan came loudly riding into camp.

It was not so much the enthusiasm Allacan was showing, but the fine horses she had trailing behind her and Éolath that caught her attention. Allacan generously gifted one of the horses to Shivased, and immediately added that the other two horses were for Gwai and Taeth.

“That is quite a gift, Allacan!” Gwai exclaimed enthusiastically. Being quite fond of having all her toes intact, Gwai quickly pulled her boots back on, and hurried over toward the horses. Allacan had claimed the golden palomino for her own, and Gwai understood immediately. “That is a fine horse, Alla!” she said admiringly, having long had a soft spot for palominos herself. Her own horse, Brigthfyr, had been born and raised on her family farm, and he had been what she personally considered the best color at that point. But he had been bred years ago. The palomino Allacan had found was a lovely bright golden color, and Gwai was immediately happy for the HCMA, albeit mildly jealous. The horse was exquisite.

Taeth had immediately gone up to a strikingly colored blue roan, and looked about to cry. Gwai barely noticed, as she slowly wandered toward the dark bay horse, with a light colored, almost white, mane and tail. “Hello there,” Gwai murmured in a calm voice, avoiding eye contact as she slowly approached him.

He looked at her curiously, ears pricked up, eyes bright, but did not shy away. Gwai slowly brought her hand toward his nose so he could smell her. She normally would have dug into her pocket for the perpetual carrot slices she kept for Brightfyr, but after the ‘kidnapping’, she did not have her usual supplies.

The horse seemed not to notice, and sniffed her hand in a friendly manner, and allowed her to move her hand to his neck. “What a lovely horse you are,” she said in a soft voice, knowing her tone was more important than the words themselves.

She was momentarily pulled out of her reverie by Taeth’s firm voice declaring the blue roan to be hers. Gwai barely registered the words, happy with the chocolate palomino which was her gift from the HCMA, but Taeth continued, saying the mare was actually from her family’s original breeding stock.

Gwai looked toward Taeth, as the Second Marshal declared the mare was in fact one she had herself helped breed many years ago. The blue roan was a truly unique color, and she could not remember seeing a similar shade before, even throughout all her travels over the past several years. She felt a shiver as she thought of how close it could have been for those two not to have met once more. “It is fate your paths crossed once more,” Gwai stated with certainty, grateful she was present for the reunion that was many years past due.

---

Suddenly Allacan can running back from the river. Badgers!!

Gwai immediately sprang into action. Badgers! Of all the evil creatures on this Middle Earth, why did it have to be Badgers?

She wished Brightfyr was here, as they had a long history together of hunting badgers. He was not, however, and Gwai had no idea how the horse Allacan had found would react to a situation such as this, and if the horse was not experienced, it was difficult to fight badgers from horseback due to their size, particularly as she was without her bow. She quickly decided to remain on foot. The First Marshal was quickly yelling out directions. Meduseld, to the northeast.

The only weapon Gwai had was the old sword she had found on the banks of the river. She could see it sitting by the fire in the middle of the camp where she left it. There were precious few other weapons available, and she would save the remainder of the swords and spears for the others. The sword was at least on the way to the northeast corner of the camp, she knew precisely where it was, and would not waste precious moments searching. Hopefully it was not as dull as it seemed.

Gwai immediately left the horses, not without regret, but soon with confidence when she heard Shivased call out to Eldrith to guard the horses. She had a strong feeling they would be safe with her. She sped toward the fire where she had left the old sword and scooped it as she ran, mentally thanking Bema she had pulled her boots on before going to greet the horses. She regretted she had no shield, but from what she had seen of the supplies, there were scarcely any, and she quickly decided not to waste the seconds hunting one down.

“Meduseld Éored!” she yelled as she ran, not looking back. “Rally to me!” she called, running forward toward the northeast corner. She could see several badgers approaching in front of her, to the right of the command tent, crashing through the tall grass, growling menacingly. She smiled grimly. This would be a fight to go down in cavalry legend…assuming they survived unscathed.

[Amadhrill]

Amadhrill noticed a dimpled smile as Walpurga explained what had happened, noticing the pride in the trainee's words and stance and the hælend smiled inwardly at the younger woman, confidence in the right amount was important for a life in the cavalry. As the lass, trainee, admitted to only having eaten an apple during the day, Ama shook her head in disaproval. And when the hælend adressed Walpurga again her voice was stern.

«What on Arda did you do after you came to the camp? You obviously neither cleaned yourself up nor ate, and I did not exactly find you sleeping either! If you want to be an elite member of the cavalry you need to get your priorities straigt, lass!» She breathed deeply, reminding herself that it was the trainee's first affairs with the cavalry, and she seemed to be a promising candidate, and Ama was not the lass' Larmægister, marshal, or mother. However, she was one of the hælends, and that did come with it's own priorities and tasks. Her hands let go of the lass' for a moment, putting away the alcohol and tossing the used rags in a pile of other dirty rags. Then she took the hands into her own again and scrutinized one at a time, calloused farmers' hands, she noted, traces of riding now mixed with gashes from a wolf's teeth. How had Walpurga managed with so few suvernirs from her encounter with the wolf, Ama wondered as she looked carefully on the hands, trying to decide the best treatment. She produced a needle and thread from what had appeared to be another clean rag.

«I'll give you a few stitches just to keep the skin together while healing, it makes less of a scar. You have been lucky, I do not know how you came away from your encounter with only this as a result.» Her words were softer now, matter-of-factly, as she started the 'embrodery' that was Walpurgas hands.

«A word of advice for you, trainee, if you want to survive... in the cavalry, you need to take care of yourself first. You cannot protect your fellow cavalry soldiers and obey your marshal if you do not take care of yourself, and that is; wash off dirt and check your body for wounds and sores, see a hælend if you need to, I expect you have learned now that hiding will only get you in trouble. Eat food when it is available, and rest when you can.» She finished the other hand quickly, cutting the thread short with a pair of scissors,. Then she found the same poultice and leaves she had used on Èomunds hand shortly before. Her hands were soft and gentle as she took care to apply it so as not to give the lass more pain then necessary. Finding clean bandages she bandages the hands, covering the gashes with the stitches already covered in healing poultice and plantain leaves. The bandages cover Walpurgas hands from the wrists and up her fingers nearly covering the pinkies, on her left hand the bandage also goes between the index and middle fingers to cover the gash there and on her right hand the bandage goes between all the fingers. The bandages cover the gashes and at the same time greatly reduce the hands ability to grip around any items.

Ama only has the last bandage to fasten when the sounds from the camp outside suddenly changes from the merry chatter of tired soldiers to full alarm. «SIT!» She orders Walpurga even before the lass can make any moves, and Ama hastens to fasten the bandage securly as the cry «BADGER!» reaches her ears. Her body is suddenly full of adrenaline as she hears the orders called out, any weariness is whiped away with the rush of adrenaline and years of experience that she had thought long forgotten manifest in her moves and orders. Though she had not thought about it, old habit had made her notice the number of cots in use as well as hælends, assistants, and wigends visiting.

«OSBERT, LAY DOWN!» She orders, even as the dryhtguma is trying to get out of his bed. Thali is out, that leaves her and the assistants and, of course, Walpurga. The soft and gentle hælend is suddenly transformed to a stern warrior speaking with a firm, authorative voice as she moves about quickly while barking orders. She ties up her hair with a clean rag, bends down and retrieves the sword that Éomund and she had been equiped with when they started out. «Walpurga! You stay here! Your hands are not fit for fighting and you risk doing more harm than good to us all!»

Ama points at one of the assistants, «You stay here and make sure the two do so too! If I hear you leaving against orders I'll have you all disciplined!» She pretty much barks at Walpurga, Osbert, and the poor assistant destined to remain with the two patients as she picks up a knife and fasten it in her belt.

Then she and the other two assistants are out of the tent, sword in her hand as she runs towards Marshal Gwai. Ama doesn't see that the assitant (NPC) turns towards Walpurga, quickly glances at her bandaged hands, before speaking. «We better find something we can use as weapons in case the badgers come her. But don't force your bandage or stitches or the hælends will have my head on a plate!»

((OOC:Sorry, @Frostbite, got @Taethowen's blessing to "ground" Walpurga ))

[Éolath]

Éo looked baffled as the other young man, Éomund, suddenly set his stew aside and walked away. He stared after the man, then shrugged. He’d bathed away the soot and sweat, but maybe the soap – ah, he though, seeing as the man headed for the horses. He’d glanced at the dark chestnut a few times; it was instinct in a rider to see to their horses. Éomund must have needed to do something.

Instead he just smiled at the other, an officer by her insignia. Éo went back to his task of sharpening the sword. It had at least a month’s worth of rust and filth, but he got an edge on it and the rust was beginning to fall away when he heard a sudden cry. “Allacan,” he said, jumping to his feet. He recognized her voice easily, and the alarm in it. Badgers? He looked around, tried to pinpoint where she was, then realized that she hadn’t just stumbled into a badger, but what appeared to be an entire clan of them.

He rushed back to where he had dropped the spears Allacan had made for him during their journey, then turned to the perimeter of the camp. In the resulting hubbub, he heard marshal Shivased yelling orders. He was close to where she had ordered the Westmark, so he rushed forward and offered a spear to the first person he came to.

He knew his aim with the other spear was not all that accurate and decided to use it as a thrusting spear instead. He wished he’d have had time to tie a cross stave to it, he had no desire to be mauled by a rabid badger that would charge up the spear and not feel the pain of death. But there was no use dwelling on wishes, and he set the butt of the spear against his foot, holding it low like a pike. His sword was held against the shaft – he couldn’t stick it in his belt now that it was sharp, and he dared not set it down.

The menacing growl preceded the beast, and Éo gulped. He’d never hunted predators before, and those yellow teeth and massive claws were suddenly terrifying. But running was cowardly, and there was no where to go so he simply bared his teeth in a return snarl and followed the beast with the tip of his spear. When it rushed him, he shouted loudly and held his ground. Prayed that Allacan’s spear would hold up against the weight of the maddened animal and that the point was sharp enough for the creature to be impaled on it. The thrashing of the animal nearly ripped his arms from his shoulder, and he struggled to grip the spear shaft and keep the badger away.

“Die, blast you,” he shouted. Desperately wanted to get a hand free to use the sword to dispatch it but was too afraid to let go of the shaft. A fine pickle, he thought, and for some reason the brief flash of how he must look with a badger on the end of a spear – much like a fish on the end of a pole- made him laugh. It sounded half maniacal and evaporated the last of his fear. He shook the spear, trying to stab it deeper, another laugh pouring out of him. This was insane…but then again, insanity clearly ran in his family.

[Taethowen]

OOC @ALL - Now that the battle has begun, please make sure you are posting in your Éored colors, so we know at a glance who is where! BLUE (#000080) for Eastmark, GREEN (#008000) for Meduseld, RED (#BF0000) for Westmark. Trainees, since you are now picking your Eored, make sure to post in the appropriate color as well.

[The Good Hunter]

Walpurga, Stuck on the Sidelines (and unable to select an eored)

She thought she was doing a good job at hiding the annoyance she was feeling. Lecturing about “being smart” and “getting her priorities straight” must be a requirement for all healers. Ama was very, very good at it. This was what Walpurga had hoped to avoid. She wasn’t worried about a handsy hedge wizard here. She fumed quietly in her head.

She wanted to comment on all the other things that Ama had said about her time in camp and wasting it not getting cleaned up and eating but there was no point. She could have done those things and maybe she even should have done them but the time between she and the Marshal arriving at camp, seeing and catching up with Éomund, and getting wrangled by the hæland she had had no time whatsoever to do anything. But she knew better than to talk back to a healer, superior officer or not, that was a good way to get sidelined from all the interesting things.

The needle did not hurt near as much as she thought it would have, Ama was both good at lectures and at healing. What a concept! Walpurga remained still and silent during the treatment, though her arms began getting tired the longer it went on. When it was all said and down, she looked at her hands, so wrapped up they almost looked she was wearing mittens. And of course, as soon as Ama had finished wrapping them, there was an itch somewhere deep within the massive folds of cloth. billferny! She could barely move her fingers.

The cry of “BADGERS!” went up outside and for a brief moment, Walpurga couldn’t tell if it was meant to be a call for supper or an attack. She remained motionless as the camp itself exploded with shouts and activity. Even within the hæland’s tent she could hear the sounds of battle erupting. The Rohir stood up, ready to fight… badgers(?) or whatever it was that was attacking the camp. All the previous complaints she had had about the hæland and her lectures melted away as she readied herself to fight. How she was going to do that with oven mitts on her hand she had no idea but she was going to find a way to fight dammit! She was as resourceful and intuitive and everyone was going to see that. She heard rallying cries outside and she was just about to rush out of the tent when the hæland’s words caught her cold.

“Walpurga! You stay here!”

But… but…

Her heart sank, along with the rest of her body. Ama issued a few more orders, using a voice with a level of stern and commanding Walpurga had yet to hear from anyone in the Cavalry yet but Walpurga didn’t register them. They were meant for others. She had been, very effectively, told to stay out of the battle. Despite everything, she was still going to get sidelined. She felt utterly useless. Worse than useless. Even the hæland’s assistance at least had something to do while she, she got to sit around doing nothing, exactly what Ama had lectured her about five minutes ago! She sat back on the stool she’d been sitting on and crumpled. The first chance she had to really prove herself was gone in six syllables. Walurga, you stay here.

Even if the hæland was right about the state of her usefulness (and Walpurga would later admit she was right) it still made her angry. She wanted to fight! She wanted to help. She didn’t want to have to be cooped up in here. What about Éomund! The strange sisterly instinct she’d developed for her fellow trainee suddenly reared it’s head. She felt an overwhelming urge to find and protect him, even if that’s all she could manage to do. If she had had the presence of mind, or the cojones, she would have asked the healer but thank the galloping stars she did not.

She wanted to ignore her superior’s orders and run out into the battle, but she was not one for disobeying orders. She had never done so before and she was not about to start. Her stomach knotted in a mix of fear, frustration, and anxiety. She only sat on the stool a moment longer. She could not let herself wallow in self-pity. ‘Oh woe is me’ was not a setting she wanted in her mind. Fine. She was going to stay here. She wouldn’t participate in the battle. Fine. Unless… a foolish and completely unreasonable thought came into her mind, unless an officer superior to Ama told her to get out into the battle. Maybe Gwai would come swooping in and order her to.. no, that was foolish and unreasonable. The Marshal didn’t even know she existed. At this rate she never would.

Walpurga groaned and moved to the edge of the tent, just inside it so as not to be disobeying, and watched the battle with… badgers unfold.

OOC: ( you sneaky sneaks! you ruined my amazing battle strategy with your reasonableness and logic! AH! j/k I love you both still)

[Thalionwen Hunigfolm]

Thalionwen, Joining the Eastmark

"Oh FREDEGAR," Thali yelped, still up to her chin in river water as the alarm was sounded. Scrambling to shore, she yanked on her new clothes as quickly as possible--breeches, tunic, and buskins, though tragically, no belt or sword. Casting about herself, she found a suitably thick and formidable piece of fallen wood that might serve for a cudgel--thank Bema this stretch of river ran through scattered trees, instead of bare plains. Then, without waiting to see how Taethowen fared--her friend was a far more capable warrior than Thali herself--the haelend bolted through camp to join her eored.

The Eastmark was already gathering at the Haelend Tent, and Thali grinned fiercely. Nothing got her blood up like defending the injured or helpless. Sliding into a place beside Grimm, she gave him a nod.

"Lost the nightgown, I see," Grimm pointed out approvingly. "Makes more sense for a tussle with badgers. Though I don't know how much force you'll be able to get behind that club when you swing it--you're just a little thing."

"You'd be surprised," Thali said, lifting her chin in a determined fashion. But she blinked, taken aback as Grimm drew his sword and offered it to her, holding out the other hand for the wooden club.

"Here," he said. "Makes more sense this way. You need a blade, and this won't be the first time I've beaten a badger to death with nothing but a bit of wood or stone."

Thali narrowed her eyes at him. "You're a dark horse, Grimm. One of these days I'm going to corner you at the pub and get your whole story."

Grimm tested the weight of the club, one corner of his mouth turning up in a humorless smile. "Good luck with that. I can be slippery if I want to."

Setting her shoulders, Thali stared off into the woods, ready for whatever came their way.

"I don't believe you," she told Grimm lightly. "Nobody slippery lets themself get hauled halfway across the Mark by the likes of me. I'm not subtle, and you can see me coming from a mile away."

"I said I can be slippery when I want to, not that I'm that way all the time. There's a bit of difference between letting you abscond with me in the middle of an exercise I thought was a bad idea in the first place, and letting you pry into my personal life. Bema, are all haelends as persistent as you? You're like a burr under a saddle."

"You let me braid your hair when there was no one about to see it," Thali said, sounding very smug. "So act as out of sorts as you like, I know that secretly you don't mind my company."

"Hush, healer, there's monsters afoot," Grimm muttered.

"Badgers," Thali pointed out.

Grimm shrugged. "Same thing."

[Allacan ob Burzum]

Allacan, (human, she/her), scouting the camp perimeter

Allacan threw herself to the side at the last possible instant, rolled over and came up on her feet, already running, shouting her warning call aloud on repeat to alert the rest of the camp.

“Badger Badger Badger Badger!”

The sudden rush of adrenaline fuelled her mad dash away as she heard the angry badger behind her whirled in pursuit. Even as she made for the riverbank and turned left back towards the open clearing where tents, horses and people were gathered, she could see flashes of black-and-white furred furies similarly breaking cover and either moving to try and intercept her, or closing in on the camp from all directions. She put on a burst of speed and her headlong sprint had her bursting from the bushes close to the horses, making a sudden sharp turn away from the river in an attempt to make it to the rallying point of the Eastmark warriors ahead of the feral creature hot on her heels.

As she made her sharp turn, she heard Shivased command “Eldrith, Head to the horses! Stay with them!” even as she spotted Éomund also moving as though the join the equines, perhaps inclined to try and avoid the worst of the battle, perhaps a misguided act of heroism to defend the most vulnerable among them. Either way, Allacan was one of the only people there who knew what the Quartermaster was truly capable of in a fight, and she didn’t want this green trainee anywhere near her; he would only get in Eldrith’s way.

“Badger Badger Badger Badger!”

Still continuing her mad chant like a war-cry, she thrust the handle of her knife into Eldrith’s hands as she passed (regardless of whether the woman was already armed, she’d be twice as lethal with an offhand weapon) and gave the Quartermaster a look that seemed to convey the message ‘If anything happens to these horses, you’ll answer to me’. Then she span ok the spot and, using both hands on her short-spear to swing it like a bat, re-directed the mid-leap Badger close on her tail and knocked it tumbling past the closest fire and in the general direction of the assembled Westmarkers.

Without another’s moments hesitation to see if either the Westmarkers or Eldrith had readied for the imminent onslaught, she leapt forward once again towards her vulnerable Marshal, unarmed and thankfully no longer alone thanks to Grimm and Thali’s swift reaction to her call, forming up beside her even as the Badgers closed in on the camp.

As she passed Éomund she grabbed him with her now free hand and bodily dragged him towards where the First Marshal was holding fast, relying on back up. “Eldrith’s got the horses, your First Marshal needs you more! Grab a stave and guard her back, dammit!” Then, she thrust him bodily towards the pile of weapons dumped unceremoniously near the most western fire and, without even consciously realising it, continued her earlier chant.

“Badger Badger Badger Badger!”

“Shiva!” she cried out to her comrade and friend, and seeing her harried Marshal turn at the call, she horizontally tossed her own make-shift throwing spear towards the Marshal, the sharpened fletched stave easily crossing the distance between them thanks to the force behind the throw and the momentum of Allacan mad dash. The same momentum that looked ready to have her run flat-out into the side of Shiva’s except that, now bereft but also unhindered by weapons, Allacan dropped at the last second into a dangerous roll down between the horse’s legs to come up, miraculously unharmed, on the other side.

She had a moment to consider her unbelievable luck in not being trodden on or kicked, and it was a long enough moment to realise her makeshift sock-pouch containing the one remaining mischief mushroom had become dislodged by the final manoeuvre.

“Mushroom MUSHROOM!”

She made a quick snatching back grab at the sock, rescuing it only an instant before it was trodden on by the First Marshal’s horse, then heard a snarl right over her shoulder. She turned and instinctively threw the balled up sock as hard as she could straight into the back of the badger’s mouth that had rounded on her from behind the Hælend’s tent. The action caught the badger by surprise as the dirty, stinky ball of material lodged in the back of its throat and delaying its assault by a few precious moments while the creature reversed backwards towards the Hælend tent opening, gagging and coughing in an attempt to dislodge the suffocating sphere of stinky-sock. She dug into her pockets for anything of use, and cut her finger on the tiny sliver of flint which had suddenly become the only equipment she had left. “Éomund! Toss me a weapon. Quick!” She said with a hint of desperation as the badger finally spewed up the saliva-soaked sock and snarled in her direction. “Er, help?!” she said to no-one in particular.

[Dimcairien Luiniel]

Éomund, with the horses, but getting dragged to the Eastmark area

Éomund had only just gotten over to where the horses were all enjoying a much needed rest, when he heard a shout. Allcan came running back toward the camp shouting, "BADGER! BADGER! BADGER ATTACK!" And then suddenly he started hearing shouts of "BADGER" coming from all sides of the camp.

He immediately froze in place, unsure of what to do. There was shouting from all the different Marshals directing their various Eoreds to come to them in the different corners of the camp. But he wasn't yet part of any Eored, so what was he to do? Then he saw someone (Eldrith) runnings towards the horses and he decided to follow her. It would take more than one person to keep a handle on all the different horses if the badgers should decide to show up near them. Not to mention he didn't know the first thing about trying to kill a badger. If he injured himself gutting a dead one, he dreaded to think what might happen should he come across an alive one. No, it was best that he stay with the horses. Those at least he knew he could handle.

He had yet to receive any amount of weapons training, and he didn't trust himself not to injure himself or somebody else while trying to hunt a badger. He knew they were vicious little creatures and would greatly prefer saying far, far away from them if he could help it. He had barely taken a half-dozen steps in the direction of the horses before Allacan was upon him. The HCMA was still chanting the word "badger" in a rather mad way. At the moment, he wasn't certain if he was more frightened of the HCMA or of the badgers.

She tossed shoved a knife into Eldrith's hand, threw a spear in the direction of some badgers, and grabbed his hand, nearly yanking him off of his feet. “Eldrith’s got the horses, your First Marshal needs you more!" she shouted, almost directly into his ear, causing him to wince. "Grab a stave and guard her back, dammit!" She dragged him towards the pile of weapons near the fire and ran off towards the First Marshal, still chanting the ridiculous chant. Éomund blinked for a second, before realising that he was now apparently in the midst of the battle that he had wanted to avoid. He grabbed a random stave from the stack and ran towards where the First Marshal sat astride a horse, near to the Hælend's Tent. Somehow Allacan rolled under it and came out unscathed.

But before he could react to anything else, he heard the growl of a badger to his side and looked over at Allacan toss a sock into the badgers mouth and after choking on it for a few moments, it began to run towards the tent and Allacan. She shouted at him to toss a weapon, but he didn't trust his ability to throw a stave in her direction. He did not want to risk impaling the HCMA.

In an absolute surge of adrenaline, Éomund dashed towards the badger, and when he was nearly upon it from the rear, closed his eyes tight, and thrust the stave down. A sudden sound of gurgling caused him to open his eyes and at his feet lay a flailing badger, blood coming out of its mouth and a saliva-drenched sock a few inches away. He stood there, not knowing what to do next and looked up at Allacan. "Is it dead?"

[Shivased]

Shivased frowned when Gwai said she was with Rowena, and glanced around the camp. It hadn't occurred to her before, given how she'd arrived in camp and how angry she was, but now she realized she hadn't see the Bealdorhaelend yet. It wasn't like Rowena not to come find her, or to be going about making sure everyone was tended if they needed. I hope the patrol does find her. If not, we will send out riders with your directions; you know her last location, so she will hopefully be easily found.

Their conversation ended then as Alla made a speech about the horses, thanking her profusely for the palomino and offering the three extras to the three marshals. Shivased tried to appear as though she knew what was going on and got up to hobble to the paint, reaching out to take it's reins as her fellow marshals headed for the other two. The other two were beautiful, and she glanced over when Taeth declared the roan was hers, she had bred it years ago. But the paint was hers. He was beautiful, a skewbald with a brown patch around his ears and the top of his head almost like a hat. A medicine hat horse, like her father had told her about. She'd never seen one and believed they were just legends.

Holding his reins at arm's length she inspected him. He was a stallion and looked to be about five or six years old. Though thin and dirty, he otherwise was a fine looking horse. Someone had clearly abused him, she thought angrily. Well, you won't be abused by me, I promise that, she told him. What should I name you? What about Cyning? It means King. The horse snorted, as if in ascent and she grinned. Cyning it is. She also noted that his tack was tattered and unsuitable, the saddle old and the girth frayed, and the bridle with long, harsh shanks on the bit. She frowned; no horse needed shanks that harsh, and she wouldn't subject him to them any longer. She called for a new bridle and waved a wigend over to unsaddle him. Once the saddle was off she ran her hands along his back, pleased to find nothing but sweat and dirt. At least whoever had him knew the value of a well-fitted saddle. She took the bridle that was brought and switched out the one he was wearing, pleased when a quick inspection of his mouth showed he had no scars or welts from the shanks.

She was just turning to find Grimm to help get her on the horse when Alla came barreling into camp yelling that badgers were attacking, said creature on her heels. Swearing loudly she grabbed Cyning's mane and leapt onto his back without assistance, the sudden adrenalin rush coursing through her system driving the pain of a move on her ankle straight out of her mind. She immediately took stock of the camp from the higher vantage the horse provided and, spotting three places the badgers seemed to be coming from, shouted orders that sent each Eored to intercept one.

Heading towards the haelend tent where she had sent the Eastmark she realized belatedly she didn't have a weapon and cursed again, then looked around to hopefully find one. She saw Alla heading towards her and caught the yell of her name. She pulled the stallion up, sparing a split second's thought for how steady and seemingly well trained he was, and managed to catch the fletched spear that was hurtled in her direction. Alla was stilll heading towards her and she watched as the Eastmarker slid straight under the paint stallion, coming up on the other side to attack a badger.

The move with the sock was an interesting one, she thought, as she urged Cyning forward again and charged past Alla and her badger, spear raised high. She had always been weakest with the spear, it's length too long for her shorter frame to wield properly, but this hand-made one was shorter and easier to handle. She spotted Grimm and Thali ready to fight and waved a hand. Engage the badgers! she shouted. Stop them from making it further into camp! She glanced around for a second, noting that there really weren't any Westmarkers in the fray. Grimm! Go assist the Westmark!

Zeroing in on a badger headed straight at her she steadied the stallion and took aim, letting out a loud cry as she came close enough to the badger to strike, stabbing down with all her might. The spear struck home; the badger screeched and fell to the ground, a spear sticking out of it's side. Shouting again, this time with triumph, Shivased turned the horse around and headed back, leaning down and seizing the spear as she rode by the fallen badger then turning around again to face the oncoming threat, ready for another strike.

[Taethowen]

Taethowen, At the River with Thali
Before the Battle

Taeth was relieved to see Amadhrill had rounded up Walpurga as she and Thali sneaked out to the river.

Taeth fell into an embarrassed silence as they walked, not quite sure of how she would explain ... things to Thali once she needed to show her. Fortunately, her silence didn't seem to phase the hælend. Perhaps Thali just attributed it to exhaustion, which... was not incorrect, either.

When they found a quiet spot, Taeth quickly unbraided her hair and stripped off the nasty, dirty clothes she'd been in through... two days, a turkey butchering, and a wolf battle, ick! But at least, for the moment, her hair covered her shoulders, and she waded into the river quickly enough to hide the bites on her thigh. She knew those were healing well enough.

Taeth tipped her head back and ducked under the water quickly to wet her hair, basking in the cool river's flow for just a moment before resurfacing for air. Thali was grinning when she popped back up. "Reminds me of when we were younger and wilder," her friend said, and Taeth gnawed at her lip nervously as she pulled her hair over one shoulder and turned around.

There was a very, very awkward moment of silence, and then Thali said, "Or perhaps when I was younger and wilder, and you were just younger."

Taeth blushed and winced as Thali berated her for being so foolish--and she knew it, but... well. There was something about him that made Taeth want to be wild and foolish, and there was only so much of that she could blame on the wine. She jumped slightly when she felt Thali's fingers on her shoulders as she examined the wounds. When Thali's hand moved away, Taeth turned around, wincing a bit as she eyed the displeasure on Thali's face.

But at least she said they looked fine and were healing well enough. "I haven't been ignoring them," Taeth pointed out. "I just didn't expect to be kidnapped for a Cavalry mission in the middle of... that moment." She didn't bother to say she hadn't technically been accepted back into the Cavalry yet at all when it... had happened. That was the next day.

Taeth hadn't thought she was capable of turning even more red, but apparently that was not the case. She'd always thought that between her and Thali, Thali was the more... innocent one. But then she remembered that Thali was somehow on her second husband--best not to dwell on what Thali's current husband was, though--and that she'd said she had twin daughters, and while Taeth had... indulged in some random kissing on her journeys... even counting Frost, the number of people she'd been with was barely more than she could count with half of the fingers on one hand, and they'd been few and far between.

And so as Thali started rambling about diversions and Naughty Wench Boxes and scented oils, she just wanted to let herself float away down the river and be done with it.

And then. Then Thali figured it out. And as she shouted a terrible euphemism about Frost's pony, and said something about feral children which from what Taeth did know about Frost's... stabling habits was more than likely. And while she was almost tempted to divert the conversation with a well-timed comment about had Thalionwen met Walpurga yet, she resisted the urge to do so. But when Thali said something about having one of his offspring, it was Taeth's turn for her jaw to drop.

She wasn't sure if Thali's explanation about it being a dragon was better or worse. But by the time her friend had finished, this time practically ordering her to come see her about everything outside the Cavalry, Taeth really just wanted to sink to the bottom of the river and... stay there.

"I promise, I promise, I'll come, all right?" Taeth muttered. "I also... well, since I'm a Marshal again now all of a sudden, it wouldn't do to get with child right away either. And I know there's... ways to prevent that, I just never had a need to learn what they were before. And don't look at me like that I know I'm not with child now, that monthly visitor cleared out thankfully right before all this mission mess."

With a scowl, Taeth swam back to the riverbank and tossed one bar of soap to Thali, then retrieved the other for herself. There were a few silent moments of furious scrubbing, and to be honest Taeth was a little on edge. Both from the incredibly embarrassing conversation she'd just had to force herself through, and also because this training mission thing had only been terrible so far and it seemed a bit too optimistic to expect the exercise to be over without another catastrophe.

Taeth was just coming up from rinsing the soap off her when she heard Allacan cry out the warning for a badger. Thali cursed and the two of them darted out of the river to throw on clothes. They were south-west of camp, but it sounded like all the cries were coming up from the far edges. By the time Taeth was slipping on her boots, Thali was already crashing through the trees on her way back to camp.

---

Taethowen, Rallying the Westmark
The Badger Battle Begins!

"Westmark, take the south-east!" Taeth heard the First Marshal call as she sprinted into camp. Bema damn it all, that's on the opposite side of camp from me, she thought. The bar of soap was left forgotten by the river, but she had the towel. She could do... something with it.

Éolath was already there, and Taeth grabbed the spear he held out, clutching the towel in her opposite hand. "Thanks," she grunted, then looked around to see how many badgers they had to face. It was just the two of them so far, and... she thought there should be at least two other Westmarkers (where was the Bealdorhælend? and where was the other new recruit? @Fairy Nuff) but it seemed to just be her and Éolath against... all the badgers. She could barely even see the camp behind her.

The first badger had reached Éolath at that point, and Taeth scowled at the flimsy spear as she took up a stand beside him. She didn't have time to pay attention to his own battle, as she quickly found herself engaged with another.

With a yell, Taeth aimed her spear for the badger's gaping mouth. It struck, but just as it started to pierce through the roof of its mouth, the pole snapped. She threw herself to the side to get out of the way, and then scrambled up, wrapping one of the towel around her left hand. The badger, with the spear head still embedded in its mouth, started to turn back to her with a snarl. She hated leaving an animal wounded instead of dead, damn it, and with a leap she straddled its back before it could turn all the way back around, and looped the towel around its throat and began to pull it tight, grateful that the spear head kept it from actually biting her. The badger fought and struggled beneath her, and she hear Éolath yelling, and she knew that her own back was unprotected, but there wasn't anything she could do at the moment.

"Second Marshal!" she heard a voice holler, and looked up to see the Æthelwigend (Grimm) that was running errands for Thali earlier darting to her side. He came up beside her, unsheathed a dagger from his wrist and flipped it around to hand it to her by the hilt.

"Thank Bema," she groaned, shifting to plant her knee against the badger's neck so she could let go of the towel. She took the offered dagger, and quickly severed the spinal cord on the badger, ending its misery.
She pushed herself up with a snarl of her own, and spun, dagger in hand, to see what else they had to face. Éolath seemed to have dispatched his own badger, and the Æthelwigend stood between her and at least one more badger.

"I fredegaring hate badgers," Taeth hissed as she came to stand on Éolath's other side, guarding him as he freed his weapons from the badger's corpse.

---

That's all I've got today folks. This monstrosity is already nearly 1400 words and my brain is *done.*

[The Good Hunter]

Walpurga, Not Technically Disobeying Orders (but still unable to pick an eored)

The battle was unfolding around them, as strange as it was to know that there were in a battle with badgers. Badgers? That didn’t make sense. A lot of things didn’t make sense since she’d joined the Cavalry. Either it was her country ignorance that the contributing factor or her youth, she could not figure out which. No one else seemed the least bit nonplussed by the fact that it was badgers they were fighting. Did… this happen often then? The more Walpurga tried to wrap this idea around her brain, the more it hurt. Nope. Just watch the battle girl, if you can’t fight maybe you can at least watch and observe how the fighting should be done.

The clang of steel, wood, flesh, and horse hooves filled the air with a most cacophonous melody. Shouts of “to me” and “look out” and “Westmark!”, “Eastmark!” added their own counterpoint. Walpurga heard once from a travelling peddler that such a thing as a symphony existed, a group of disparate instruments all harmonizing to create a thoroughly engaging piece of music. The wall of sounds around felt much the same. There wasn’t much of a beat or a tune, but it was music just as much as anything else. The instruments were different and it seemed like it was two groups of musicians trying to fight over the tune, but something could be found in there. Above the din of battle, she thought she could pick out one voice in particular.

“Badger, badger, badger, badger, badger.”

What on Bema’s green fields? Was that Allacan… singing? Walpurga thought she’d seen enough weirdness today but apparently wyrd had more weird in store for her today. The closer she listened, the more she could make out. Yes. Those were indeed the words. This place was so weird. Yet even amidst all the weirdness and utter nonsensicalness, Walpurga did not feel like she wanted to leave it. She had been frustrated and stymied by the healers, conspired against to keep her looked in a tent like a princess too delicate to step out on wet grass. Thinking on that again, she fumed and stormed back from the mouth of the tent.

She could still hear Allacan’s weird, but technically correct battle cry of “badger, badger, badger, badger” though the fabric of the tent. Then it changed. All of the sudden it became “Mushroom, mushroom” and Walpurga was again, flabbergasted. What? Were mushrooms attacking now? This day was…

Out of the corner of her eye, Walpurga thought she saw something slithering. She looked down at the ground and yes, not a foot from her was the reptilian shimmer of scales. There was a snake in the tent. No, she looked closer, there was more than one snake. There was at least two, maybe three. Had the hæland tent been constructed over a viper’s nest? Grabbing the first she could find within reach, Walpurga pulled the stool up and around in a massive overhead arc and slammed it with all the might she could muster on top of the snakes. She had no idea if they were venomous snakes or not, but she was not going to wait and find out.

“A snake! A snake!”

She shouted at the top of her lungs, warning the other patients away and to keep watch over their own areas. The last thing this battle needed was people running out willy-nilly from snakes in the healer’s tent. As ridiculous and farcical as this all was, snakes were not a danger the day needed. She jammed her booted foot into the head of one of the serpents, it’s creepy, unearthly eye staring at her with jaw beginning to distend. “Not today!” she shouted. The pile of coils remained still, it looked as though she’d taken care of that minor emergency, for now at least. There were a few shrieks from elsewhere in the tent but they were usually followed by the THWUMP of something hard hitting the ground.

Another shout drew Walpurga back to the mouth of the tent. It was Allacan! She had rounded the tent was near the open.

“Er, help?!”

Walpurga looked around frenziedly, the minor scuffle with the snakes had gotten her adrenaline pumping. In the corner, perched conspicuously against a tent pole (almost as if someone had put it there just to be noticed now) was a massive wooden hammer used to hammer in tent spikes. Now that was a weapon that could be used against badgers!

She grabbed it and heaved the thing. Galloping stars it was heavy! Her hands ached from trying to pull it up, but once she angled her feet better, the leverage made it easier to lift and she carried the behemoth thing back to the opening of the tent.

The next moment was what legends were made of. Allacan was dashing by, her head turned back behind her watching the horde of badgers descending on the camp. Walpurga stood just at the tent flap and heaved the hammer out. The thing flipped end over end in an eternal loop, Walpurga could almost see the lines of motion as it moved from her grip. The great hammer hung there, suspended by time as Allacan’s head turned slowly around to face her front. Her hands opened and the stars aligned perfectly for the haft to hit smack in the middle of her palm. Her fingers closed about it. The momentum of the whirling hammer kept both it and Allacan moving, but the woman grabbed the handle with her other hand as well and changed the pinwheeling sledgehammer’s forward momentum, carrying it over her head and, twisting ever so slightly, brought the hammer down like a lightning goddess onto the head of her nearest attacker. The air resounded with the sound of a CRUNCH and then for a moment everything went still and quiet. It was only then that either one of them even noticed that Éomund had appeared from thin air and stabbed the already very dead badger with a sword.

And just like that, the moment was over. Allacan and Éomund rushed again, massive tent mallet in hand, and Walpurga was left at the opening of the tent.

Then, because this day could not get any stranger, a badger, much smaller in size than the rest of its seething kin, came waddling up to her. The way it moved in a strange zigzag, stumbling pattern made Walpurga think something was off. While the rest of its brothers and sister clambered over each other to get at their human foes, this little one seemed to just want to sit next to the tent, in the shade and cuddle. It sniffed at her boot and began licking and pawing at it.

“What the hell?” she muttered under her breath.

She bent down and scooped the gormless but adorable thing up in her arms and carried it inside. It didn’t belong on a battlefield where there was ripping and tearing and blood and gore and screaming. The thing’s eyes were derpy and unfocused, unable to look at anything too long, it’s tongue lulled out to the side in a mockery of a grin. How… how was this thing here?

“Come on then,” she sighed and brought the tiny, clearly odd, badger inside the tent with her. “You’re going to get crushed out there and for some reason you’re too adorable to do that to.”

OOC: ( @Allafyrefleorhtlig's epic smooshing of badger skull down with her permission.)

[Gwai]

Gwai, Forming Complicated Battle Plans

Gwai ran for the northeast corner of the camp, sword in hand, dodging around a campfire, plates left hurriedly on the ground, and jumping over the log she had recently been sitting upon. From the haelend tent she saw Amadhrill running to meet her, and what looked like assistants in tow. The haelend held a sword in her hand, and Gwai was relieved Ama had find one. Dicun had arrived at the camp not long after she had, and hopefully he would be able to find some sort of weapon.

Gwai slowed to a walk when she saw badgers to the east of the command tent. She counted at least six on this side, all growling ferociously, as they scurried toward the camp. From her prior experience with badgers, there were quite possibly more lurking behind this first wave.

“Ama!” Gwai called. “I’ll take the ones on the right! You start on those on the left! Send your assistants toward the middle and we’ll try to help them!” As far as battle plans went, it was not going to go down in legend, but badgers were hardly known for having elaborate counterattacks.

Sword in hand, Gwai approached the two badgers on her right, sizing them up quickly. The usual growling, fangs, drool. One was slightly bigger than the other, and had several scars showing through it’s fur, proving he had endured more than one fight.

She took the offensive, stepping quickly toward the bigger one, as it simultaneously launched itself toward Gwai. The badger was large, even by Rohirric badger standards, and as it jumped Gwai moved forward, slashing horizontally with her sword across it's chest.

Normally that would have been the end of the badger, but the sword was unfortunately dull, after lying in the water for most likely years. It acted more like a club, pushing the badger off it’s trajectory of trying to slash Gwai’s abdomen with it’s long claws, and he landed on his side on the ground. Winded perhaps, but not dead.

Leaving that one for a moment, Gwai turned toward the other badger, who was already gearing up for an attack. It snarled and ran toward it, and Gwai, holding her sword with both hands, swung it as hard as she could at the badger’s head. She had good aim, and it hit the badger square in the side of the head. It made a grunting noise as it flopped over, and lay still.

It was likely dead, but the other, larger badger had unfortunately now had a chance to catch it’s breath, and climbed back to it’s feet. She risked a glance to the side, trying to see how Ama and her assistants were doing, and if Dicun had arrived. Trying not to think of how different this battle would be if she had her own sword, or especially her bow, Gwai swung the old dull sword loosely as she walked back to meet the larger badger, smiling grimly. "You picked the wrong day, freond min," she murmured under her breath.

@Amadhrill @Aethelu

[Thalionwen Hunigfolm]

Thalionwen, up in arms

"Well hello," Thali said softly as a vicious-looking female badger with a scarred face approached her. By the looks of the creature, it had seen many a fight, with its own kind and likely with hapless farmers, as it preyed upon their sheep and goats. "You've been around awhile, haven't you? Done a fair bit of damage in your time, I expect? Been the source of all sorts of devilry and mayhem?"

Set off-guard by her easy tone, the badger circled Thali, sniffing the air in hesitation as the haelend pivoted on her heels to keep it from getting behind her.

"That's right," Thali offered in an encouraging tone. "Go on and take a measure of me, sort out where my weaknesses are."

Even as she spoke, her own keen healer's eyes were scanning the badger, taking in its stature and gait. It was wiry and rangy and undoubtedly clever, but all those years of plaguing the Mark hadn't left it untouched--the creature favored its left hind leg. Moving a few paces to her right, so as to force the creature into moving on its bad side, Thali made a show of glancing elsewhere.

And the badger sprang. But Thali was faster, dodging out of the way, and the creature let out a noise that was halfway between a growl and a yelp as it landed heavily on its bad leg. That moment was all Thali needed--she darted back in and plunged Grimm's sword into the badger's side.

"I. FREDEGARING. HATE. BADGERS!" she shrieked, unconsciously echoing the distant Taethowen in uttering a sentiment shared by all Cavalry members. Thali stabbed the beast repeatedly, all traces of softness gone from her voice. "THAT'LL TEACH YOU TO STEAL MY GOATS!!!!!"


Grimm, aiding the Westmark

Grimm liked fighting.

He liked the simplicity of it--here is your target. Here is your mark. Do it what takes to put them down. No grey areas, no confusion, just the straightforwardness of us against them, Rohir against beast. Much of life was confusing to Grimm, but battle was not. The healer in the nightgown had said a haelend's role was the one thing she was fit for. Well, this was it for Grimm. The only life that really felt like it suited.

Finding the Westmark's new Marshal, Taethowen, unarmed, Grimm immediately handed over a dagger. He had two more--one on the other wrist, one in a sheath within his left boot. For him, to start with at least, the club would do.

Standing his ground, Grimm let the Marshal and the new lad, Eolath, have their kills. It was right for them to each have a moment of glory--for the Westmark's leader to mark her promotion with blood, and for the lad to take his first life as a soldier. But as the others remained engaged and a third badger lumbered towards them, Grimm smiled darkly.

This one was his.

Stepping between the Westmarkers and the massive badger, Grimm swung his club through the air, savoring the whistling sound it made. Before him, the snarling boar badger scuffed its formidable feet in the dirt, claws scoring deep grooves in the soil. Those claws could rend flesh just as easily, Grimm knew.

But this particular badger would never have a chance to do damage again. He'd see to it.

As the creature sprang, Grimm's club met it in mid-air with a resounding, crunching thud. Bone shattered, blood sprayed, and the badger hit the ground, only a misshapen pulp left where its wicked face had been. That was how Grimm preferred his kills. Quick, efficient, and brutal if need be.

"I fredegaring hate badgers," he muttered under his breath.

Wiping blood from his eyes, and spattered with more of it from the crown of his head to his waist, Grimm fell back to stand beside the rest of the Westmark.

"Your lead, of course, Second Marshal," he said with a respectful nod, to ensure she knew he would not put himself before her again unless duty and danger required it.