There was a woman seated in the fire, or at least the bones of one.

"I have heard your name, Virtu. Many have prayed to me in your name; many have died with your name on their hearts. My larders are full to bursting; my cup runneth over. Even I, the Lady of Killers, the grim and rapacious, for once consider that there may be such a thing as too much bloodletting,"

Ash swirled up her legs of flame, coating her body in gray, old coals still showing through in cracks where her body moved. She stepped from the fire, approaching you. The rest of your band was mesmerized, slack jawed, only fire-light dancing in their eyes.

"My name is Gjǫfbiǫð. And I have seen you, Anima. I know your deeds; I keep your wife's spirit safe, even now. Raise a temple to me over her grave, and give your capital her name. There is much that must be done. There are white ships coming from the east, and a dragon waking from his slumber. You will have blood and bodies to bring fruit to your fields soon enough. First, though, there must be fields."

Your blade sang in its sheath, a noise below noise, but one you understood. This was no foe. In a way, she was you, and also this land. The two were not very separate when they fey were involved.

It was a dark and quiet night, and you knew your eyes only saw a crackling fire, only heard the sputtering of sap - but something in your head, something truer, was seeing this - the world laid over the physical, called faerie. The same place your people instinctively reached through when accessing their inborn 'talents.'

Aran had gripped his sword when the figure had appeared, it wasn't something he had dealt with before. A woman, the bones of a woman, in his fire, made of the flame, and stepping from it as she spoke. He had bared a bit of his blade as he listened to her speak, his man appearing memorized, likely from some foul magic.

At the mention of wife's spirit a fire of his own, not a reflection of that which he was looking upon burned in his own eyes. If not for his blade singing, he may very well have done something that would have lead to regret. He took note of what she said, he would need to speak to Leo and Martin about this. Leo was more familiar with the Fey and their trickery, while Martin was his brother, a man who he had trusted his life many times. He waved to Gjǫfbiǫð "I shall consider your words Gjǫfbiǫð. For now, begone."

He would wait until Gjǫfbiǫð had dispersed and his men had returned to their normal selves. It was then that Leo and Martin were called forward to discuss what had been said, with Aran repeating it verbatim to them, describing the being he saw in detail, and asking Leo's thoughts on the matter. "We had spoken of constructing the Broken Souls a holdfast before, perhaps it is time now I do so Martin."
This message was last edited by the player at 23:31, Sat 15 Dec 2018.

Leo was no sage, but he had grown into a man in one of the more distant villages, and as his people had more encounters with the wild spirits called the mound-men or fae. "The Fae are tricksters, but they ain't ghosts - only you saw the creature, so like as not it was never there . .  but it did give you its name, and it didn't ask anything of you, or offer you anything. That's how the Fey trap you - get you wrapped up in an obligation . .  " Leo said.

"Like as it, it was a Geist of some kind. Something that used to be alive, sticking around . .  something powerful. I've heard tale there was once a wild warrior queen in these parts, her like never seen before or since - could be we're resting over an old battlefield. You've been sending a whole lot of souls to the other side - ones with no honor - yet we've not dealt with a single ghoul or revenant. I'd wondered at that . . could be that this geist is strong enough that its been keeping order among the dead . . some kind of pyre-keeper?"

"We've got a couple daggers of the good steel in the arms chest. You remember them, Aran? The ones forged by that old smith - Cnámh? You said he used bones to make the carbon for his steel, strengthened them the old way. Blades made like that can hurt apparations - we should keep one each, just in case." said Martin.

"Would be a good idea to keep going come dawn and ask about the area from the locals. If we put down coin and play like we mean to be moving on they will be less troubled  . . smallfolk get worried if there is too much iron hanging around them. For good reason."
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:59, Mon 17 Dec 2018.

Aran gave Leo a nod, "A Geist and pyre-keeper? Very well, go back to  your duties Leo."

Turning back to Martin Aran stared at the man a moment before giving the order, "Get the daggers then. Ensure Leo also gets one. We shall move on when dawn breaks. No need to tempt fate, we have already been approached by something that could have caused much harm here."

Turn to look out over the camp and his men Aran pondered a few moments in silence, "We have much to do. Double the guard for the night, and ensure to take down the names of those who are pulling the extra duty. They will be rewarded at a later time." All men deserved to get what was coming to them in the end, especially those that came to his attention. Aran was like to reward them with extra spoils, passes, or relaxed duty at a later time as was custom for him. It was part of the reason that men followed him so willingly, the other being that those who opposed him didn't tend to live long lives.

There would be many things that needed doing soon enough, he watched his men as they prepared for sleep and went about their duties in silence. White Ships from the east and a dragon awakening. Was it the dragon banner? Or an actual beast? Were the ships someone new coming to flail helplessly against something that they could not hope to defeat, or something else entirely? These thoughts and tangents related to him were what he pondered until he drifted off into slumber. He no longer dreamed, he hadn't for some time. Some said that he remembers instead, that he had traded his dreams for the power to hurt people. It may have been bullshit, but if it were true, one only had to look where it had gotten him.

In the morn, they would break camp and do as Martin had suggested unless something else changed their plans.

The records of extra duties were kept in the usual log.

Aside from your lieutenants, you had a score of good men, as well as assorted helpers, including the cook (an old childless widow, who had kept on with you after you slew her abusive husband) and a young ex-stablehand. They were mute and you weren't sure of their gender, but they had a way with the horses and knew some medicine for field dressings and the like.

Ten were men-at-arms equipped with spears, leather-covered wooden shields, and boiled leather armor; five were huntsmen with hunting bows, black riding leathers, short-spears and dirks; and five were veterans equipped with full maille and arming swords, as well as longaxes.

The horses were rounceys and not meant for use during hard fighting, save for your gelded courser, who was on his twelfth year and growing weaker. Still a tough bastard, though.

Martin usually headed the veterans and served as part of the vanguard, owing to his personal skill and bravery.

Leo preferred to direct the men-at-arms, his common birth and exceptional height lending him easy authority. He carried a longsword of middling steel, but preferred his halberd, which he was highly skilled with.

Your role was usually to flank the foe with the huntsmen, and directly attack enemy leadership, although you could and would fulfill any role, and your personal intimidation value and raw bloodthirst often saw you with the vanguard.

==

Each of you armed yourself with the daggers and proceeded to the larger village ahead of you, which possessed walls of raised earth topped with sharpened timber.

The village chief requested that your men pitch camp outside of the village for the comfort of the villagers, and allowed you free access to the village's potable water.

While asking around town, Leo and Martin confirmed that the geist was known to the villagers, and was accorded responsibility for the complete lack of undead in area, as well as a decade without frostbite or storm affecting crop yields. All the geist had requested, in the form of a vision, was that all the village's dead be burnt and their ashes mixed with the soil of fallow fields. At first this had been a shocking break from tradition, but given the results of gaining the geist's benefaction, it had become comfortable.
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:10, Thu 20 Dec 2018.