NorseQuest (A Norse Xianxia)

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Silence chokes the shadow-cast, empty side hall you find yourself in—one of many in Dorri Rattlespear's hall. A thin trickle of smoke rises from the remains of a fallen friendly fire, its loss leaving you engulfed in the encroaching chill of the autumn season. A few leaves ride the gentle breeze through the open window. Your preparations stutter as one fluttering leaf alights upon your knee.

Pulling your boot strings taut and tucking them in, you lean back on the crate serving as your seat. Your eyes stay locked to the leaf as the same wind it rode in on plays with the loose strands of your hair. A frown crosses your face as a deep red lock flutters into view. You'll have to redo your hair before you go—wouldn't want to get it caught in combat, after all.

Regardless of the state of your hair, your thoughts linger on the red-hued leaf on your knee, cast adrift on its own.

Driving off the odd lump staking a claim in your throat, you brush away the leaf and rise to your feet. With one hand tightening your belt, the other gropes around for your helmet in the dim light of the hall. Distracted as you are, you only barely notice the wood creak announcing someone's arrival in the room.

"Halla," you freeze in your search just as your fingers find cold iron, the voice of your father filling your ears, "I've come to see you off, and to give you some advice."

Orientating towards the door, a large, rock spike-laden dog greets your gaze. Steinarr's fylgja licks its nose as he pads on over to you, his tail wagging gently in his wake. You return to the crate, brows furrowed and voice quiet as you attempt to make sense of your feelings.

"Did Solrun...?" Your voice lifts in a question as you trail off.

"I have a few days," Steinarr bobs his head as he takes a seat at your side. His soulful, doggy eyes are wet with sorrowful finality, "but, lets not talk about me. Right now, it's important that you know what you're going into."

You frown, something in his tone has you concerned, "You say that like you're not going to be there with me."

"Because I'm not," he affirms with a nod. "Someone has to stay behind to protect the hideout and I'm already there. I'm the logical choice."

As much as you may hate it, he's not wrong. Any reshuffling would take too much time and Steinarr is strong enough to take on a band by himself, like as not... Right?

"You, uh, you said you had some advice for me?"

"I did, yes," he says as he turns his head towards the sea, "You've adventured before and have fought large groups of people, but that's not the same as this. I don't know what you and Dorri and the others have decided upon, but if you wind up in mass combat, you need to know some things." He takes a deep breath before continuing, the surreality of getting a lesson in combat from a dog is not lost on you, "The single most important thing to remember is that you will not have much of an idea of how the battle is going, not if you're on the ground. You'll be able to see your immediate surroundings, but that's generally not enough to tell the state of the greater battle. All you can do is focus on completing your objective. Whether that's merely surviving or making a name for yourself or what have you, focus your efforts on that while not overextending yourself."

"Are you telling me," you frown as your brows furrow, "to hold back?"

"Never," Steinarr vehemently shakes his head, doggy jowls waving around wildly, "All I'm saying is that you'll hit your limits far quicker then you expect, as battles are often long, drawn-out affairs. When that happens, you'll have no choice but to pull back else face your demise. It is important to marshal your strength so that you aren't exhausted when your friends need your help, or the enemy commander is vulnerable, or a breach is opening in the line."

"I see," you say as, for the first time in a long time, you have to rely on your memory alone to remember things. "Thank you for the advice, Dad."

Steinarr chuckles, "I'm not done just yet, Halla. I've got a lot more experience to impart."

You blink as a warm flush ignites upon your face, "Oh."

"Though you are called Skyfire, you probably should stay on the ground," Steinarr carries on like nothing happened. "Fliers are some of the first to fall in the beginning of a battle, in my experience, given that everyone is fresh and full of fighting vigor with which to blast you from the sky. Wait until the route, when both sides are exhausted, to take flight and wreak havoc."

The rest of Steinarr's advice is less revelatory, but still useful. He mentions things like keeping your head on a swivel, taking care to avoid hitting the men to your left and right with your swings, and making sure that you don't advance too far from your friends, amongst other things. Simple stuff, but still good advice.

Eventually, the conversation peters off into silence. When, exactly, it started you don't know, but your hand rests upon Steinarr's doggy head as you run fingers through his craggy fur. You don't know what to say to him.

So you don't.

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The scouts report that there are a number of bands heading out from the raider's camp. The time has come for battle.

It seems there are four bands heading out, consisting of a hundred and ninety men in total. That leaves about forty men to guard the ships. Each of the four bands has different numbers, with the largest being sixty-five, the next numbing fifty-five, the third having forty, and the smallest counting thirty.

Dorri is going against the largest band, Logi is leading against the second largest, Framarr is leading against the third, and Folkmarr is in command against the smallest. A force of about forty is being left behind to protect Asvir, just in case.

Who are you (and your retainers) following?
[ ] Dorri
[ ] Logi
[ ] Framarr
[ ] Folkmarr
[ ] Stay behind

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AN: So I lied about not updating today, I guess.

15 minute moratorium.