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Message: <blockquote data-quote="NiTessine" data-source="post: 217867" data-attributes="member: 475">And thus, they travelled for seven days, each mile taking them further away from Praag, and deeper into the lawless wilds, ruled by the Ice Queen only in name. Perhaps they were indeed watched over by Sigmar Heldenhammer, for they encountered no perils on their way. In the evening of the seventh day, the walls of Ovotsk, Igor's fortified village, stood in sight. The village was a loose cluster of houses and small farms, spread around a hill fort. The party noticed a great crowd had gathered to the south of the hill fort. Stopping their wagon, they went to investigate.As they came closer, they saw a ship, placed atop a great mound. A middle-aged woman in a white robe, with dark blond hair and fair skin, held a torch. There was another woman, an old crone, circling the boat and reciting ancient chants of mourning.Fisibbei stepped forward, lightly tugging on the sleeve of one of the men gathered."Who has passed away?" he asked quietly."Our brave lord and protector, Igor Jaroslavich, in a cowardly ambush by zhe troops of Viseslav," the man replied reverently, and then turned back to viewing the funeral ceremony. Now, the blond-haired woman walked up to the boat, and carefully placed the torch in the kindling set around the ship. In silence, the people of Ovotsk watched as the flames took their former leader to the next world.Franz gazed at the flames with a disapproving expression."These heretics do not observe proper Sigmarite funeral traditions," he said quietly to Frederich."Old habits die hard, priest. Besides, you can't dig a grave in here. The ground is frozen solid for ten months of the year. The faith of Sigmar is not in the ceremonies, but in the beliefs. They certainly wear the symbols," the big man replied quietly, nodding at the white-robed woman. Indeed, the clasp of her cloak was a small silver hammer.Franz stayed silent.The townsfolk stayed there for a long time, standing in respectful silence as the fire died down, leaving only the charred remains of the ship behind. Then, the crowd quietly dispersed.Soon afterwards, the travellers were making their way to the local alehouse, when a member of the local militia came to them."Hold, adventurers. Lady Predeslava would speak vith you."Glancing at each other, the adventurers nodded, and followed. They were led into a large building, obviously the chieftain's hall. Inside was a wooden throne, covered with furs, and on the throne sat a woman. It was the blond-haired woman they had seen at the pyre, though her attire was now changed. Gone was the white robe, replaced by red and blue woollens, and a great bearskin cloak over her shoulders. It was held in place by a silver clasp in the shape of a warhammer."Greetings, travellers," she began. "Sigmar's blessings to you. You look like able and experienced varriors. I could use people like you. Do you know vhat has happened in Ovotsk in recent months?""Yes, milady, we have heard," Frederich answered."Zhen I vill not bozher to go over it again. Suffice to say, I need help. Ve need help. I vill pay you, each, 800 gold crowns, if you vill stay in Ovotsk, and help my people keep the swine Viseslav's raiders at bay until my brother Ottakar returns from zhe lands to zhe south vith his men. Vill you agree?"Before any of the others could speak, Fisibbei stepped forward."Indeed, Lady, to protect your town and tribe was our very reason of journeying here from Praag. We will protect this town, and its people, until Ottakar's army returns, or until Viseslav is defeated for good."A faint smile appeared on Predeslava's face."Good," she said. "You will be shown to your house, and given food. Now go… I must rest. These have been trying times, and have taken a heavy toll." As they left the room, a man came to them. He had a remarkably long moustache."Good day to you, travellers. I am Boian, a former warrior of Igor. On behalf of the local militia, I vould like to velcome you to Ovotsk.""Good day, Boian," Fisibbei replied. "You were a close man of Igor's, then?""Yes. I vas vith him vhen ve vere ambushed. I vas knocked in zhe head and fell dovn… Vlaseslav's men left me for dead. It vas a great shame. A good varrior dies vith his master." Boian shaked his head. "If you vill excuse me. I have… things to do."                                                                                                 * * *And thus, a week passed, as the party of no longer travellers spent their time in the fort. There was little to do, but Franz, Fisibbei and Kase found more than enough entertainment in prayer and contemplation. Frederich trained with his axe and sword.Then, one day, a rider arrived in the village. He was fatigued, and had almost ridden his steed to death. People in the village began shouting. Then, the alarm was raised. The heroes were watching from the top of the palisade, as a dozen horsemen galloped over the ridge south of the town, drawn scimitars flashing in the morning sun and warcries at their lips. They descended upon the fleeing villagers who tried to make it to the fort, slashing at their exposed backs and herding them in the other direction."We cannot just stand here while they get slaughtered!" said Frederich, unshouldering his great axe and drawing his sword. Kase nocked an arrow and let fly, hitting the dirt in front of one of the riders. The man wore chainmail, and had many gold and silver bracelets. He was obviously the leader.From the open gates of the hill fort, stepped an enraged Frederich, flanked by the grim-looking Fisibbei and stern Franz. Hefting their weapons high, they charged at the mounted warriors.Franz ducked a scimitar slash at his head, whirling around and bringing his heavy warhammer in an arc at his enemy's stomach. The powerful blow smashed him off the saddle, killing him instantly. Four other horsemen, including the chieftain, charged at the heroes. They were no match for the blades of their opponents, though, and soon Frederich had downed the second man, his axe glistening red with the fallen opponent's blood. In the battlements, Kase realized it'd be futile to try shooting into the raging melee, and quickly joined his friends outside the fort.Fisibbei was a small whirlwind of death. The small halfling and his sharp sickle slashed open the throat of a horse, its rider only barely avoiding being crushed by the falling steed. This did not help him, for Kase was there to meet him, and sank his sword into the man's gut.The diminutive druid claimed his second kill in that battle as Franz smashed the kneecap of the last horseman. Fisibbei came from the other side, disembowelling him with a swift slash.Soon, only the leader was left. Fearlessly, he charged, hefting his scimitar high, and scoring a slash across Kase's scalp. However, the elf got back, thrusting his blade deep in the man's thigh. Frederich came from the other side, his sword leaving a red streak in the man's side. The last thing Mundiak the Chieftain saw, as he was lying on the ground, his other foot still in the slashed stirrup, was the descending sickle of the halfling druid.And there, as the noon sun bathed them in its rays, they cried out their victory.</blockquote>

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