Well, I cant think much, so lets Attack at sundown, and raid their cattle, while they are winding down.
6,5,1
You wait out of view in some shrubs while farm life goes around you, the cattle goes up to
graze on the hill tops and farmers go down to work the land.
The midday sun comes and slowly it sets and night falls.
Fearghas mutters to you as you sit the bush beside him.
“I hate cattle wars, it’s the randomness of fate.
You’re good with that blade of yours, against most men in give you the flip of the coin.
But cattle wars are how the gods settle there scores, decide the fate of man -click- like that.”
Here one moment , dead the next.”and as the sun falls below the horizon, you move closer to the walls.
With a thunk Æstrid's axe bites in the wood of the stockade and she pulls you up to the top of the walls.
As Horas open the cattle pen, theirs a shout from the hut nearest, and she emerges. a youth of a woman, nude and pale skinned, her body milky white and tattooed blue in moonlight, she shouts at you and smacks her bronze sword, the carp tongue blade, sparking on the iron shield.
For a moment you regret not having a spear to throw before she meets you blade drawn.
You duck under her first slash and return an thrust, she parry's late and your blade tears deep into her abdomen.
As you pull your blade free she stares at you, chalky white as her innards spill forth on to rampart.
The rest of the farms fighting men and women are stunned by the loss of their champion.
And quickly the cattle are taken away.
With the cattle driven before you, it takes longer for you to ride back home to your sister stronghold, so long that you can clearly see the fighting men following you, always keeping out of bow shot but there coming after you.
As you drive the cattle into the gate of your sisters stronghold, a roasting pot is ready and prize bulls is set on the flames.
After a belly full of fine drink, you alone carve the Champion's Portion,
As you bite into the finest cut of meat, a ragged war-horn blows in distance.
You turn and see a lone rider on the distant hillside.
The is a single lone rider, the challenger, come to the cast the spear of war at you.
He fly a red banner of X and but his boots end in horses hoofs, Askuzai.
You ponder what choices are, now that you are at war with the horse lords.
1: Wait , surely the horse lords need to graze there horses and rest.
2: Attack, now is the moment to strike
3: Call on allies, your sister is own protection by her lord.
4: Your wife can call on the powers of the Svinfylking warriors down on her foes but there is cost to pay, one of sweat and stone.
5: Other, got a clever trick post it here.
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Topic: From an age undreamed of. II (SG) (Read 23436 times)