Version 2.0
As light as the wind, the runner travels, to quaint villages and lonely farmsteads, to family and folk. Starting with three villages as the foundation with promises of bandit protection to monster hunting, to trade of goods they could spare; other struggling villages were quick to join. Despite the slim chance of receiving help, they still held out hope.
As activity buzzed outside the village, the inside was equally bustling. Volunteers gathered, learning to fight with swords, bows, and daggers. Even Halvar offered his services, primarily in hunting monsters, tracking bandits, and tips in the bow. While the children of the forest slowly crafted obsidian weapons, the need for men skilled in wielding them became apparent and so the villages prepared for the moment they were called to fight.
The children of the forest sought sources of obsidian to forge weapons, they traveled the entire forests and the mountain edges searching for even a hint of obsidian. With aloofness in his eyes, Elder Oak took it upon himself to guide and assist Hawthorn, imparting knowledge he could no longer learn from his parents.
Bronze weapons were made from reforged farming equipment or the few spares that the children of the forest had as mementos from previous wars. Leather armours were stitched and woven from whatever materials they could find, made with care from family and partners.
Food was gathered from preserved fish from Eldermoor and whatever the children of the forest could gather from their domain.
/
"That's eleven villages now, Brandon," Jon said as they walked past the villager square where a group had gathered armed with swords and a few bows.
"And we've got nineteen lads who have learned to fight from Edric and Lyanna," Jocelyn added.
"We don't have time to lose then," Brandon informed the group, the party set out, heading south down the White Knife River intending to unite the more stubborn villages.
"So, Brandon, what's the plan then?" Jon asked.
"If more fishing villages along the river can be gathered, we will have a secure source of food. It's much easier to have other villages join if we can offer them at least a bit of food," Brandon explained.
"But you have already asked if they want to join, haven't you?"
"We have, but if I go in person and show my sincerity, things might change. If not, I just need to figure out what they want and give it to them. If I can do that, there would be no reason for them not to join."
Jon put his arm around Brandon's shoulder. "You see, that's why you're the big boss man, Bran, Haha. Let's do this, then."
Over sweeping hills and through vast white plains, the company embarked on the first leg of their journey. The snow-covered landscape stretched endlessly, a serene and unforgiving expanse that reflected the harshness of the North. As the biting wind whispered through the barren trees, the travellers pressed forward, leaving imprints on the untouched snow beneath their boots.
The gathered men, hungry for knowledge, swarmed around Edric, their eyes gleaming with determination. Like infants starved for milk, they eagerly absorbed every piece of wisdom he shared about wielding swords, for bows they hounded Jocelyn for anything else or the other experienced hunters around. For daggers, they asked for demonstrations from Lyanna to see her move and dance before them.
As they ventured south, the terrain gradually transformed. The white plains gave way to rolling hills, dotted with hardy shrubs and the occasional stunted tree clinging to life in the frozen soil.
The sound of rushing water grew louder as they approached the river. The White Knife River flowed with a cold and untamed beauty. Its icy waters teemed with salmon, pike, and other hardy aquatic life. Snow-covered banks were adorned with patches of rugged flora, with frost-kissed bushes and hardy grasses peeking through the snow.
Following the river downstream, they soon encountered a quaint fishing village nestled along the banks. Already known to them they stopped to catch up with news before continuing eager to reach the unknown villages.
With the river flowing calmly with them, they reached new grounds. Smoke rose from chimneys, blending with the crisp winter air. Wooden cottages with thatched roofs stood resilient against the elements.
Entering the new village, the scent of smoked fish hung in the air, wafted through the air the spell of pine burning smelt divine. The villagers, hardworking and noisy, greeted the newcomers with a mix of curiosity and wariness.
The large company was quickly approached, though a small man his stature was anything but seemingly made with the idea of a brick house. His massive arms and legs seemed carved from bedrock and looked to be able to crush anything. He walks to the company with heavy steps but open arms and a great big smile. His eyes are warm and welcoming, as he scratches his short brown hair.
"Alright, lads, out for an adventure? Haha," he bellows as he sticks out his thick hand. "Names Walton."
"Brandon, we came here to talk to the village chief. We sent a runner before?" Brandon says.
"That was you, was it? Then you have come here for no reason." He says with an apologetic face. "I got too many problems to be dealing with right now, I can't be taking care of so-called end times when I have problems of my own to take care of," he says, walking away.
"We can help you with your problems. We are fighting men, and we know how to use them, you don't even need to owe us anything."
Walton stops before swivelling to Brandon, then at the party behind him.
He holds up two massive fingers. "I've got two problems. I've got bandits harassing my village, threatening us, saying they will attack if we don't hand over food and such. Said that once their boss arrives, if we don't hand over our goods, then they will take it by force. To top that off, I have some bullock's tales of some beast roaming around the lands, some four-legged thing attacking hunters once they make a kill. You want to prove to me that I should join you, then deal with at least one of those problems."
"And if I were to deal with both of them?"
He crossed his arms and raises his eyebrows. "Then I'll have no problems or regrets about joining you."
Brandon smiles before asking for details before heading back to the group, calling for Halvar.
"Well, Halvar, this is your time to shine. You said that you could hunt anything down, even bandits. We need to find a group of bandits that are plaguing this village somewhere over that direction," he says, pointing to the east. "Along with that, a group of Ghouls by the sounds of it. Say they are in the wilds around here, taking hunters' catch."
"I keep my word, Brandon. I can show you why I am the best hunter in Winterhaven." His eyes briefly roll into his head before a caw sounds out above.
Descending majestically from the heavens, a Golden Eagle gracefully swoops down, its wings spread wide to catch the currents of air. The radiant sunlight catches the golden-tipped brown feathers, turning them into a gleaming spectacle against the backdrop of the vast sky. With precision, the eagle lands with silent grace onto the shoulder of Halvar, its sharp talons gripping firmly but without a hint of aggression.
The eagle's keen eyes, like orbs of polished amber, survey the party looking at every detail, whilst its sharp hooked beak playfully nibbles Halvar.
"You're a Warg!" Brandon says.
"One of the very few human ones, according to Acorn," he says, as the eagle caws loudly.
"But I learned that only the children of the forest could do that."
"Not anymore it seems. Acorn says she is not sure why, but ever since I was a young boy, I felt connected with the animals of the forest. Acorn saw my talent and trained me to Warg with them."
"That explains sooo much about you, Halvar," Jon says.
"What do you mean?" Halvar asks.
Jon smiles cheekily. "Oh nothing, don't worry about it." Earning a suspicious glance back from Halvar.