As night descended over the bleak countryside, silence began to blanket the Cheshire plains only to be interrupted by the occasional call of a wild animal and the hissing of rain falling into a small campfire where a small pot of warming tisane was brewing.

Mud caked leather boots stretched towards the flames and their owner sat under a oiled skin that served as bedding as well as impromptu shelter. The young knight was thoroughly miserable, but she could only imagine how miserable the other defenders of the country were and hopefully the enemy was in a similarly pathetic state.

Finally the shivering young woman gauged her tea as being ready and she poured a good measure into her wooden cup. The uplifting smell of chamomile filled the air under the rather worn travelskin and gave Ish the first proper warm feeling of her entire day. Even lunch had consisted of sodden bread with some dried meat. Not even the peasants were to be seen around today and seeing a desolate and shabby looking stranger in wet leather clothing would have only gotten the young woman chased away with packs of hounds.

She shifted to lean against the treestump behind her and wished fervently she was back home in Meirionnydd with its hills, rivers and forests and the pounding of the Irish Sea against the shore not far from her steading. Not even the moon managed to illuminate the bleak surrounding landscape through the clouds, making her feel quite alone in the dark.

Supper consisted of some more sodden bread which she toasted over the fire with the help of a long stick and another cup of the chamomile tisane. Soon after she bedded herself under the oiled skin and hoped for some sleep. The treck ahead would still last a few days and she sure hoped not to come across any of the marauders as a lone knight of little means would surely be nothing more than small bait and a target for their bloodsports. The thought made her shudder and she resolutely chased her worries away with thoughts of a blazing fire in the hall of her steading and the roast hog she was promising herself for her return.

In stark contrast to the previous day, the sun was beating down mercilessly onto the path towards the south and Ish felt the sweat running over her body was she pressed on. She had long since abandoned her boots, which were now fixed on top of her pack and her waterskin was almost empty. But then, so were her provisions. As she had discovered to her chagrin, the rain had made her bread mouldy and she had left it at the campsite.

Nature's bounty in the woods had been plenty, yet the young knight could hear her stomach grumble quite noisily. So far, villages had been few and far in between and most had been wary of strangers, especially blonde ones geared up for war. Usually she prefered to keep to herself whilst travelling and her purse was pretty thin, but a girl had to eat something..

It was then that the smell of roast meat wafted towards her and her stomach rumbled ominously. Her mind raced, she had hardly met a soul recently and she was getting close to the places where there might be invaders..
With only a few steps she was off the track and into the brush, suppressing a yelp as she trod on a thistle with bare feet. She sat and set her pack next to her as she laced her boots back to her feet and thought hard at what to do next.

The best way was to avoid whatever camp was out there, although she thought that she should possibly find out who was camped there. There's bound tae be sentries, though, she mused as she tied her unruly blonde curls into a knot at the back.
Carrying a sling and her quarterstaff could hardly count as enough armament to take on an entire camp of enemies but perhaps she was lucky and it was just a few stragglers that could not afford to abandon their position. But with Norsemen there was no way to be sure, they were just crazy enough to break camp anyway.

Judging by the sun, it was late afternoon and there were a few hours yet before it would set. Staying in this undergrowth was an option, yet she was pressed for time as it was and creeping through an unknown landscape in the pitchdark of night was possibly an even worse idea that skirting the source of that smell.
Her stomach growled again, making Ish scowl at herself. She loosened the straps holding the staff to make it easier to access in case she needed it. Instead of a brisk walk she now moved at a more slower, stealthy pace with her ears pricked for any noise from enemies.

Brambles scratched her cheek and tangled in her hair as Ish crept further through the undergrowth, trying to bring distance between her and the camp. She deemed these vikings to be from Iceland, her Lord Tristan's herald had taught the young squires to recognise the banners of the enemies. Now the skill comes in quite handy, she mused as she plucked one of the plump berries from its thorny branch and popped it in her mouth.

The smell from the foreigner's campsite still lingered in her nose, although Ish now thought that she was out of smelling distance of their supper but not yet out of danger.
Sentries could be posted anywhere, although those raiders had a reputation for drinking. It would be too much to ask of Lady Luck to let anyone that she might stumble across be blind drunk? Ish lay flat on her belly and prayed for it anyway. And in case God had his ears pointed elsewhere, perhaps the Goddess Don might listen to her prayer?

The waterskin was now empty and she would have to find at least a brook somewhere to refill it, yet no running water could be heard above the sounds of the forest and night was closing in, with the setting sun throwing ever lengthening shadows over the land. The girl leant her head into the ground briefly and exhaled a huff of air before crawling on.

A crack to her left made her freeze at the spot. Ish turned her head slowly and peered through the brush. Nothing to be seen there, yet her heart pounded and she dared not to breathe. She slowly raised a hand and moved the branch in her sight to reveal a pair of boots not more than 2 meters away. She lowered her hand and pressed herself to the ground as still as possible, ignoring the wild hammering of her heart in her chest.
A rumbling voice sounded close by, speaking a language she did not understand. Her heart did another flutter and she felt her palms becoming sweaty. The voice was answered by another, this time to her right. Ish closed her eyes and prayed quietly that their owners would just leave, yet they began to chat over her head.
The steps to her left sounded closer and she heard the rustling of clothes and the slight chink of chain armour being moved.
A plashy noise began to her left, making Ish's eyes pop open with an indignant expression - the man was relieving himself! Right next to her! She was torn between indignance and amusement at the absurd situation and balled her hands to fists, digging her fingernails into the flesh of her palms to stop herself from bursting out with laughter.
The moment seemed to last an eternity, but finally the men disappeared back to where they had come from.
With a mouthed oath, she crept on as quietly as she could before collapsing to the ground with silent laughter shaking her sides. Why me, she thought as she finally continued on her way, out of breath and giddy with relief that she had not been discovered.

I should be out of danger, Ish mused and finally rose to her feet. Her spine made a cracking noise and her knees felt slightly numb as she stretched. Her blue eyes took in the scene around her, but it looked as if she was alone. Only a rosy shade was seen to the west and as well as the light, warmth was rapidly leeching from the air.
A young rabbit had been unfortunate enough to be too trusting and was now dangling off her pack by its feet until the time that it would be safe enough to start a small cooking fire.

The moon shed more light as she encountered another road and finally she realised that she was not entirely sure where she was. During her crawl from the Icelanders, she had not paid much attention to the position of the sun, and now that it had set she found herself in a silvery landscape that was entirely unfamiliar. "Juist braw", she muttered under her breath, her annoyance giving way to the lilt with which her Scots mother had spoken. But finding out where she was had to wait until the morn, she had a rabbit to skin and roast over the tiniest of cooking fires, well shielded on three sides so it would not be seen.

By the time Ish awoke from her fitful sleep, morning had broken with utter silence around her. The fire was out and her face and hair soaked with the rain that was still coming from the low clouds hanging over the lands. She sat up and bunched the hide that had kept her dry overnight to channel the rainwater into her waiting waterskin. The fire had died a long time ago, filthy water pooling in the place that the embers had been. With a groan she rubbed her eyes and rose, feeling her damp clothes clinging to her skin. Only a day without the leathers... Her face was slightly disgusted as she shook out the the doublet that had been hanging on a tree and pulled it back on, shivering at the feeling of the cold leather and damp cloth against her skin.
For July, this weather is rotten. Ish tied her wet hair into a new braid and began to break camp instead of making the effort of a new fire and breakfast. This time she would have to swallow her pride and find herself a village to buy some provisions. Her stomach grumbled in protest but she ignored it resolutely.

So far the sun remained hidden behind the clouds, but the rain stopped. Occasionally the young woman could see glimpses of blue sky, but not the sun and she still wasn't sure where she was.
Regardless, hunger drove her forward and she came across a road with fresh wheel tracks on it. She followed it and hoped to find a village where she would be able to buy some food.

Finally, with the air becoming much warmer even though the sun still hid behind the clouds, a village appeared behind the hill. The relief she felt was almost sweet and her steps quickened. A lone figure stood on a field, working the soil intently and she began to whistle to alert him to her approach.
He looked up with a closed expression on her face, which only grew more wary as Ish approached.
The young woman swallowed the lump in her throat and gave the man a friendly smile.
"Ho there, I wonder if you could tell me where I can buy some bread?" Just to make sure the man would not feel threatened by her, she stood a few paces away with her hands empty.
The man seemed to mull it over for a few heartbeats before he left his tools and walked over to her. "Is it only bread you want?" With a meaningful look, his eyes fixed onto the quarterstaff that rose from her shoulders.
"Aye, good man. I've walked far and I am out of food." As if to underline her statement, her stomach rumbled again.
He looked at her and probably found that a lone young woman would not be much of a threat to an entire village, as his face brightened somewhat and he nodded towards the collection of buildings. "The second house left from the church is my daughter's. Her husband is a baker."
"Thank you, good man." Ish inclined her head and smiled gratefully before setting off towards the village.

A short while later, Ish sat in the village hall and tore into a loaf of bread and some ham that a kind soul had sold her. The friendly folk had told her that she was near the coast of Yorkshire and they lived in the fear of the invaders visiting them next.. but that they had been lucky and had been spared the attention of the vikings so far. Ish had been able to see the fear in the woman's eyes as she spoke of the dragon ships and what had happened to other villages closer to to coast and ever since there was a persistant knot in the pit of the young knight's stomach.
At least she would spend this night in the rushes before the fire and with a roof over her head. The baker had promised her to have some travelbread to sell her in the morning and then she would decide which route to take south.

The night was dark and covered the dragon boat of the northmen into shadow. Almost silently it crossed the sea. The danish vikings would have had invaded and taken over the small village before the residents even noticed.
Maleus smiled under his helmet. To attack the english and scotish coast had been so easy. Like picking a mellow fruit. And it would be the same with this little village also.
Every viking on the boat was feeling the excitement about the upcoming fight.
A quiet scratching from the bottom showed them all that they reached the seaside. Maleus raised his axe and shouted: “For Odin!” and all his men shouted the same.
Doom has come to the village as the vikings arrived and began to plunder without care about the life of the poor residents.

"For Odin!" A huge black bird cackled wickedly and launched itself at her amidst the frightened screams of the villagers. Her arms seemed tied to her side and she could not lift her staff to fend off the enormous creature that landed atop of her, pressing the air out of her lungs. Ishbeal began to cough violently and twisted to throw it off. The world went black but the screams did not stop.

With a gasp, Ishbeal sat up disoriented from her dream, throwing a decorative wooden shield to the side that had fallen off the hall's walls onto her chest. It was pitchdark, yet through the rafters she could see the lick of flames about to consume the building and she could hear screams and yells clearly penetrating the walls.
Fear formed a solid knot in the pit of her stomach as she snatched up her gear and laced her boots, the shouts from outside hurrying her on. No time for the leathers, with trembling hands she pulled her hair back into a tightly wound knot and tied it down with a lace just as the first burning thatch fell before her feet. "Holy mother", she proclaimed as she jumped to the side and almost tore the door off it's hinges, the fragile lock no match for the force that pushed the door in at the same time as she pulled it open.

A hulking shadow stood in the doorway and laughed hideously, illuminated by the burning roofs outside. With an angry scream Ish threw herself at the man, maneuvering the bottom off her quarterstaff behind is leg to push him off his feet. His face became a distorted mask of surprise and anger and stepped onto his chest, planting a solid kick against his unprotected chin before jumping over him out of the doorway.

Chaos made her falter, there were old men and boys with pitchforks and torches and the firelights being reflected by the blades of the enemy. Roofs were burning everywhere and children screamed their fear into the confusion. She paused only momentarily and ran towards a large helmeted man who brandished battleaxe and shield threateningly at the baker's wife. Anger replaced her fear and she brought the top off her staff down in a forward motion to the man's shoulder, hoping to take him by surprise. He twisted in time with the staff and Ish stumbled with the momentum, hitting the ground hard and rolling to the side as the axe bit into the soil where she had just been. He shouted something she did not understand and threw the shield aside before beckoning her to attack again.
Ish rose and brought the staff diagonally to her front, waiting for the man to make the first move. He laughed and stepped towards her, intending to use the shorter handle of the axe similarly. Taking advantage of her longer range, Ish twisted to gather speed and swept the iron-shod end of the staff against his ankle. He lost footing with an ugly crunch just as Ish completed the movement and the top of the staff connected with his head. It was protected by a helmet but the speed of the impact would be dizzying at least.
With a roar, the man went down and the woman behind her shrieked as the axe flew through the air, burying itself next to the young knight. Her palms were sweaty and she gripped the shaft tighter as he rose, favouring his other leg, but with anger shining from his eyes almost as bright as the fire.

Everything was lost in the dizzying noise of flame as the roof of the village hall collapsed in on itself, pushing the walls of the building outward. A beam fell towards them, forcing Ish to step back as the Viking was hit by the wooden pole the size of a man's thigh. Her opponent was pushed into her and she felt the heat of his breath on her face before he grasped her staff and jerked it out of her hands with a triumphant expression, shouting something in his tongue.
Ish refused to cower but kicked him viciously into the shin and let go of her staff to pull away. She felt her face burn and blood rush in her ears as she picked a cobblestone, ready to hurl it into the man's face as soon as he moved.

The last thing she saw was the stone flying at the raider's face just as the end of her own staff connected with the side of her face and the world spun away in a sea of darkness and pain.

((OOC: Men beaten up with gracious permission of Maleus))

Maleus smashed his helmet into the face of his enemy and broke his nose. The resident tumbled back. A swift strike with the axe and an other villager was dead. Maleus shouted some orders to his men: “Take the women and children! We can sell them on the slave-market!”
A loud howling of joy was the answer from dozen throats. The danish konungr smiled. Yes it was a good day. The fighting was over and now it was time for reaping the goods.

A viking came in sight. Blood was running down his face and it seemed that he had lost some tooth.
Maleus laught: “Erik, what happens? Did you meet the wrong end of a horse?”
The man spit out some blood. “No, a brat, ...a girl.... threw a stone at me.”
“And do you kill her?” “I don´t know. She lies over there, next to the former townhall and don´t move anymore.” “Go and bring her to me! If she is alive we can sell her”

Some moments later Erik came back with the knocked out girl over his shoulder.
Without any care he let her fall to the ground. A low sigh showed that she was alive.
Maleus moved to a well and took a bucket full of water.
“Hold her. I don´t want, that she will escape!”
The cold water splashed into her face.

Her head spun and Ish caught her breath as cold water brutally jerked her from oblivion. Water entered her lungs and burnt in her eyes as her body spasmed with coughs. She tried to cover her face but found she could not move her arms... "What.." Memory flooded back and suddenly she knew the reason for the pain and spinning sensation in her head. Her blue eyes opened wide and she jerked her shoulders to escape from whatever bound her.

Not whatever, whoever. A quick glance over her should had shown a blood-encrusted face, the same visage she had seen before th darkness had claimed her. "Let.. me.. go..!", her breath came in short, sharp bursts and she twisted her entire body against the steely grip holding her in place. She tried pushing her feet under her to get some more leverage, but the man's grip just tightened is vise-like grip on her arms and she paused as the pain finally registered. "What do you want with me, let me go!", she hissed, finally staring angrily at the other viking, the one that had just stood there and watched her struggle. Her hair had come loose and hung in wet strands all over her face. The knot in her stomach now had changed from fear to a white-hot rage at what these people were probably planning to do with the villagers - and her.

Maleus stood in front of this woman. She was different. Not like the other residents the vikings had captured. And she looked good. He came closer to have a better view and saw something glittering around her neck. He reached out for her necklace. The necklace was made of silver with a big N as pendant. No ordinary resident of this village were able to wear such kind of silver jewellery. This woman seems to be something special.
“This is the little wildcat which throw a stone into your face and let you look like a drunken Englishman?” Erik nodded.
Maleus grasped her hair brutal and pulls her head back to look her in the eyes and spoke to her in english tonge.
“You to good to become slave. I won´t sell you! I will keep you!”
Like a confirmation he gave her a kiss and smiled wicked. “Erik, bring her to my ship.”

Her eyes grew wide with alarm as the other Viking stepped closer and bent down to look at her. She began her struggle anew, to no avail. The man with the bloody face held her securely and she was just not strong enough. Her body shook, caught between terror and fury as he grabbed the chain of the necklace.
It was clear that he seemed the leader of this band of raiders and he seemed amused as he spoke to his underling behind her.

Without warning he seized a handful of her hair, yanking her head back. Ish strained against the movement, but it was useless. His breath felt hot on her face and she could do nothing but pour all her hatred into the glare from her narrowed blue eyes. When he spoke again, it was heavily accented English:

QUOTE:
"You to good to become slave. I won´t sell you! I will keep you!"

Slave? Keep me? The words barely made it through to her petrified mind as suddenly he pressed his mouth onto hers, before barking an order to his minion who shouldered her without much effort.

"What?", she finally gasped, the shock giving way to pure, incandescent rage. She screamed and began to twist and kick, landing a few on the man that carried her. "The hell.. try that again ye lewd son of a mangy cur! Ye loathsome heathen!"

Erik grunted as her knee knocked his chest again and shook the bundle over his shoulder, growling something in that horrid tongue of his. Probably wanted her to be quiet.. Slave? To these animals? Never! She only screamed louder.

Far too soon, the man sloshed through water and lobbed her carelessly over the side of the raider's ship. She scrambled to her feet and backwards, falling over a rudder and hitting the back of her head against one of the wooden seats. "Sod off, pagan", she hissed, momentarily seeing stars as the Viking easily hopped over the side, spraying cold sea water everywhere.

The man only laughed and calmly coiled a length of rope, the dim light making the blood on his face appear as if it was a hole in his skin. With a quick movement he was by her side and leant over her, pushing her arms behind her back and bound them tightly with well practiced ease even as she struggled. He then proceeded to lash the rope around her torso, tying her arms to her side and picked her up to carry her to the bow of the ship where he tied her to the base of the dragon's head rising against the darkness above. Ish spat in his face and tried to kick him more, but the marauder easily evaded her in the familiar surroundings of the ship. Finally it seemed that he had enough of her voice, he tore a strip of cloth from his tunic and bent over her to force her mouth open as he tied the gag around her head.

Ish could smell the coppery scent of blood on herself and quietened. No sense in struggling when she was this tightly secured. She watched with venom in her gaze as her captor sat on a nearby seat and she shivered from the fear inside and the cool night air.