[Egilrun] When Fight Takes Hold

18th of Cylus 718

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Freya DuCarinos
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[Egilrun] When Fight Takes Hold

When Fight Takes Hold
18th Trial of Cylus, Arc 718
Permanence was not to be expected when one lived a life such as Freya’s. It was that of a wanderer’s dream to settle down with a lover, on a farm in the rural plains of Ne’haer, and bare children of which she could grow old watching over. She’d dreamt of this some nights, when not overcome by the scars upon her soul and sometimes, Freya thought she could still have it: a life. A normal life… but she had never been born into one so why start now?
A chill ran up her spine as she swung another foot forward, burying the heel of her boot deep within the snow’s icy grip. It was hard to walk in this shit— to see, to breathe, to survive. Breaks passed where all she could think of was one more step closer, one more step further away, because if she was honest with herself, the biqaj needed to get away.
She’d made connections in the most unlikely of people, even established a lover or two, but those ties began to take root and with that, concern that she’d be hunted and captured, or worse… liked.
However, it was time to leave that in the past and focus on what she should be doing instead, which meant dragging her coin from out of the floorboards and fetching herself a boat. The tour Naomi had given Freya provided her with enough detail to understand that Egilrun was the town to buy a bought from. Counting her coins upon the floor of the inn made Freya realize she probably had not the amount needed for such a trade and cursed.
“I’m getting off this sarding island one way or another…” She muttered to herself, tucking items away into her pack.
That had been nearly two days ago and already, Freya was done with traveling. One step closer, one step further away… One step closer, one step further away… It was a mantra she had found to help push back the negative thoughts in her mind. When the fire would burn low when the wind picked up, when the tent would topple over on her in the middle of the night, when Cylus would push open her cloak and embrace her with fury, burning her skin in its wake, Freya would repeat the words.
The lantern she carried was only bright enough to cast light on the ground in front of her, leaving everything else in near darkness, save for the sun in the sky that looked like it had been punched through. Off in the distance, she saw small dots that indicated she was nearly there and, lifting her bag higher onto her shoulder, Freya ventured on quicker than she had before.
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[Egilrun] When Fight Takes Hold

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The sky was a bit brighter than norm, the clouds breaking for a bit, and letting the moonslight stream over the mountains and woods surrounding Egilrun. Peaceful and clean, the world seemed still to those rare folks still out in the elements. Which wasn't many, the few free citizens didn't roam much if they could help it, for their own protection. There was no official curfew issued from Deep Slag, but the patrols were not people, and were not exactly the friendliest of creatures.

And the reason for the patrols had just stumbled through the trees in a hurry, flopping face first into the snow ground in front of Freya. In the brief instant, she'd be able to see his unnaturally pale skin, dirtied and scarred, his tattered rags mismatched with a black feathered cloak. But most importantly, she'd see his crazed eyes, swirling in color as the emotions danced through the Biqaj.

He clearly hadn't been expecting to see Freya out here, and though he had a small bone "knife", one that is crude at best, with a glint of blood, hadn't raised it against her. Why? He wasn't worried about people out here during his escape. No. What he was worried about wasn't too far behind him, having picked up his trail a few bits back. In a gasping whisper, "R-run!"

He scrambled upward, letting Freya see the open back of his torn shirt, his cloak momentarily askew. There upon his back, in a pure silver ink that literally glowed in the moonslight, was an intricate lionfish tattoo. As his muscles moved, it seemed as though the fish itself also swam. He got upright, and ran toward the glowing lights of Egilrun proper.

And it wasn't but a few trills later, that Freya could hear the distant clop-clop of a jogging pair of hooves, coming from the same direction the man had come. And then the sound came to a halt. The light in Freya's lantern snuffed out in an instant, though by all logical means, it really shouldn't have. She'd had plenty of oil, there was no wind or water. At yet, it was gone.

Soon after, a darkness began to etch itself overhead, drawn by some unseen artist filling in the blank page, and the moonslight began to wane away. And as the darkness continued to grow, a horse slipped silently out of the trees where the man had first appeared. It was sniffing at the trail, following his scent. It's head bobbed back and forth, its breath steaming, as it realized it had found a second trail. It raised its head to the sky, and it screamed like a woman being cut from tits to ass by a dull blade, echoing over the wood.

And it waited.

A scream in the distance answered back.

The Tainted Banshee opened its maw wide, its heavy tongue lulling out from between its massive, crushing teeth. It would eat well tonight, it was sure of it.
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Freya DuCarinos
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[Egilrun] When Fight Takes Hold

When Fight Takes Hold
She’d trekked through the icy, snow covered pathway for just a few bits more before pausing in her stride, the hair on the back of her neck standing at attention as he gut clenched enough to set signals off in her mind. Instinct spoke to her but a whisper on the wind, its cool breath promising something sinister as the Biqaj listened, wondering what could be out there beyond the warm, flickering glow of her lantern.
Remaining where she stood, the woman listened to the sounds around her, the caress of branches scraping against bony branches reaching up towards clear skies for a ray of sun, the sound of leave crunching, if at all, and the snapping of twigs and sticks. There was no wind to spur any unusual noise, but for some reason or another, something unusual was afoot.
Freya was just about to venture once more towards the lights of the town when the sound of hurried feet and ragged breathing broke through the brush of pine and dead leaves to stumble into a daze position at her feet. She jumped, holding the lantern out to shine light onto the wanderer while her other hand reach for the short sword at her hip.
“What the sard..!” She muttered under her breath, heart pounding in her ears as she examined the stranger. It was a man and for the kind of weather, he looked worse for wear than any Freya had seen yet. Pale skin and dirted, scarred features stuck out against the daylight glow of the light, looking as wild and crazed as a rabid animal caught off guard. The woman was just about to warn him away, upon seeing his own weapon gripped in his hand, when a simple word uttered in quiet voice piqued Freya’s attention. Did he just tell her to run?
“Stop!” Freya pushed out when the man clambered up from his spot on the ground, quickly moving past her with clothes askew across his form. Wide eyes picked up the silver tattoo inked into his flesh, somehow moving within it, or had that been her imagination?
“Stop, wait!” She called to him this time, wondering if she should pursue the man to discover his mystery, as it seemed he was headed the same way she way, only to have her attention stolen by the sound of horseshoes hitting the dirt a distance away. She turned back, gazing within the forest to find the silhouette of what looked to be a horse staring in her direction. Freya stilled, her heart now hammering, blood screaming within her eardrum while her breathing halted. What was that?
The light that had been guiding her way all the time suddenly vanished, enveloping the Biqaj in darkness she didn’t want— in darkness she feared. As if the night couldn’t get any darker, the clouds overhead darkened the area, sending her into a very real abyss of emptiness where all she could hear was her heart.
Then, the clouds broke and the light from off in the distance cast a glow on the creature that was now where the man had follow. Freya gasped, fear kicking adrenaline into her system as she quivered like a leaf. What the sard was this thing? It was no ordinary horse!
Heeding the man’s warning, Freya turned and took off towards the only light source she could find: Egilrun. Branches and pine smacked her face as she gasped outright, launching her legs forward as fast as she could move them while her pack bounced angrily behind her. The thing screamed into the night, another screech matching its own returning the call off in the distance. Her legs moved quicker, harder.
She didn’t know where the man ran off to, she couldn’t even see his tracks. The light of the moon was the only thing she could rely on if she was to find him at this point. But what good was that when the town was so close? He had to have been the one to bring these things here anyways! Why should she look for someone who was obviously an imbecile at best.
But was there any way to make it back to town before they caught up to her? Surly not… Her days were spent sailing boats and strong arming creatures from the sea, not running from dreaded beasts like the thing behind her. Freya had no strength in her legs and it was becoming quite obvious as she slowed.
“Shit!” She gasped, her own eyes crazed now, the same frenzied sickness rubbing off on her as she tried to survive. “Shit, shit!”
Just then, the light broke and there, upon the snow, were tracks leading towards the town. Freya followed them only a short distance more until the darkness concealed the clues once again. Breathing hard, the woman had stopped at the base of a rather thick tree and decided it was best to hide out in the branches as there was no way these things could climb up to her.
Quickly, she grabbed the strap to her bag and threw it up into the tree with as much strength as she could muster, watching and listening for it to fall. One of the lower branches snagged on the strap, signaling her to start climbing up to it. Adrenaline made her haul ass up the thick pine tree, planning to bury herself within the top most branches until the threats passed… if they planned to, that is.
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[Egilrun] When Fight Takes Hold

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The Tainted Banshee arrived at the spot beneath the pine tree that housed Freya, sniffing all about the air. It's head turned upward,
appearing to gaze straight at the woman. But nothing more happened in that moment. The second horse arrived, and the two communicated via series of insect-like clicking noises, before heading toward the village of lights, presumably to follow the man's scent. From Freya's vantage point,
she could see them moseying along, only to come to a dead stop for no readily discernible reason. They paced back and forth, along an invisible 'wall',
sniffing up and down its length. They could walk along it but not venture any further in closer to the village.

The man stepped out from behind a tree past this unseen border, casting an obscene gesture only those who spent a lot of time in ports would recognize. The horses screamed once more, clearly wishing to lunge at the man. But something kept them back. After a few trills of this taunting,
the horses screamed, and ran back off the way they'd originally come. The man hollered out into the distance, "If you're still alive, might wanna hustle your bustle. Somethin' worse comes next."

The man waited, watching for any sign of Freja, playfully tossing his knife end over end, balancing and catching the point upon a single fingertip, and catching it in the same point, yet the skin never broke. He appeared a lot more jovial and relaxed now than he had when he'd scrambled by Freya earlier. "Oy, hurry it up. I ain't waitin' on your ass all night. We gotta move, its a killin' field out here at night!"

Regardless of whether she joined him or not, he began moving toward Egilrun. Though if she did, "You're either new here or reckless. Everyone knows 'bout the curfew. Get your ass eaten after dark outside the village proper. And while I dun mind such things myself, them horses ain't as kind of lovers as yours truly." Leading toward the village, "An' before ya try and get chummy or somethin', no names. Not in this town. Not with me. I ain't given mine, dun want yours."

Soon they were at the tree line before the stone walls that surrounded the village, with patrolling guards atop them. These weren't the Elements, no. Private guards, former mercenaries, hired by the Slag Deeps prison mine that ran this town. They carried torches and lanterns, working tight patrolling circuits. And all of them were heavily armed, and wearing dark, leather armors. There was a heavy steel gate, big enough to allow a single cart through, though it was shut. It also held a single walk through door within its bars. The wall extended quite far in both directions.

"Which way ya want? Loud and smashin'? Distract and sneak? Over? Under? Ya ain't by chance one of them there flyin' types is ya? Could try goin' down to the water an' swim our way in to the docks, but that bitch of a bay is cold this time of year. And them gnarlacks don't hibernate."

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Apologies on my lateness! I have wrapped up a bunch of my other stuff so I have much more time to give to you.
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Freya DuCarinos
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[Egilrun] When Fight Takes Hold

When Fight Takes Hold
18th Trial of Cylus, Arc 718
The tell-tale sign of a dark presence nearby was indicated by the rush of air, loud and noisy, moving through giant nostrils in plums of fog. As the horse moved about, hoping to detect where she went, Freya held her breath as to prevent the sound from carrying. She made sure to breathe only through her nose and just slow enough that the heat of it wouldn’t carry much further than a finger from her face. Her green eyes looked up into dark skies, wishing that the light of day would be upon them so these beast could crawl back to which them came. The sound of twigs snapping alerted the woman to the second presence— another horse like creature that joined the former in an attempt to hunt her… but why? What were these things and why were they here? And why was that man out here with them? Freya’s expression darkened, knowing that if she was curious enough to figure out those answers, she’d have to track down the Lionfish tattooed man. That was, if she ever made it down this tree…
As Freya watched them, she noticed the horses soon take leave of the area she was stuck in and follow something else, probably the other scent they picked up with her’s, only to come to a dead stop in a small clearing for no real reason. They paced, as if disgruntled by a barrier there, before the woman saw a form step out from behind the border of the treeline. The horses started up their clicking noises, blowing air furiously through their snouts, their pacing fervent as their desperation to capture the man became more and more obvious. But when they truly realized they could move no further, one screeched out into the night and they both took off, disappearing from Freya’s view.
A frown contorted her features as he spoke, but reluctantly, Frey a grabbed for her pack and made her way quickly down the tree before running off in the direction of his voice. The shadows of the night made her paranoid and, while she knew she was never ‘safe’ traveling alone, the biqaj felt even more vulnerable than she had ever before. Making sure to stand even with the man, she kept a distance only long enough to hiss out questions to him.
“What the sard were those?” She asked in a low, angry voice. “Who the sard are you?”
As he began to move, only more questions arose from the woman who trekked along after him, “Eaten? I was told this town’s specialty was in ship crafting. Why are there man eating horses roaming the borders at night?” While he attempted to crack a joke about his experience within the sheets, Freya only grimaced. What kind of person would joke about sex at a time like this? “Fine… No names, that’s easy. But by the Gods, what the sard is going on here?” To emphasize this, she stepped in front of the man, trying to get a good look at what she could see of him from within shadow while pushing a hand against his shoulder to stop him.
When she saw his eyes look up, she too turned to stare at the wall they’d come to as it looked more like a prison than any city wall she’d seen. Looking back, she glared, “What is this, where have you taken us?” Surly, that view was the straw that broke the camel's back and before she even thought about what she was doing, her hand went to the hilt of her dagger strapped against her hip.
“I won’t go anywhere with you until you give me answers..!”
If he’d oblige her demand for them, Freya would listen, interrupting with a simple question or two before she’d answer his, “I don’t fly.” The biqaj expressed flatly, “And it’s always been my experience that sneaking is better... “
Easing her hand off the hilt, Freya shook her head. “I won’t swim through a bay. Cylus will freeze us both to death when we come up from the depths, especially you in those… rags.” How was he not cold?
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[Egilrun] When Fight Takes Hold

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The man wore a shit eating grin as he listened to Freya's exasperations. Stubborn and feisty. She had to be a shiplass, absolutely had to be. And now that he had a moment to look her over, she was quite easy on the eyes, though that could just be from having been locked up with those lunatics for so long. Perhaps he'd find a manatee in a seaweed wig attractive too.

"You sure get hot headed fast sweetcheeks. And ya ain't even a redhead. Fine, lets settle for a quickie then. You're now caught up in a prison break. Them Banshees are for eatin' stupid people out after curfew." He pointed at the walls around the village, "That's Egilrun, sponsored by the prison that yours truly just broke out of, impressive, I know. I got business in this town before I kick on out. So we break in. Or you stay out here with them screamers, if that's your cuppa tea. And nah, ya don' wanna buy a ship here lass, go to Havardr for that. But let's get to it, try not to get caught. I ain' savin' ya if ya do, even if you've got an ass I'd wear like a hat. Sneakin' in sounds good enough to me lass. Jus' remember, your idea. Gimme a couple bits."

With that, he slipped back into the tree line. And time inched past. There was then a scream very similar to the one that horse had made when it discovered Freya. Though this time it sounded injured, and moving closer to the wall, on the opposite side of the gate from Freya's current position. The sound continued, though it sounded like its source stopped moving in closer right at the tree line. All of the guards atop the wall, with their torches were looking that way. Freya could see discussions among them, before two came down, unlocked the gate, and stepped out, walking toward the source of the sound.

The gate was left open.

There were still four guards atop the wall, but everyone was interested in the sound, for they thought it might be an injured Banshee. If that was a case, they'd have to return it to the stables, and would receive a reward for their efforts. One guard was upon the wall, directly in front of Freya, torch casting a glow several meters in a sphere around him, with another directly overhead the gate. The other two were further down past the gate. The sound became an extra startled pained screech as the guards approached it, and sounded as if it were fleeing. The two guards on the ground took off after it, and those remaining looked on, hoping it didn't get away. It would be a sizable payday. Slags Deep loved their guard horses.
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