(Collab with [@Monkeypants])

[h2]Southern Mycae, Scaveni Camp [/h2]
 
The horse was taking too long. Its face was buried deep in the trough of water, lapping up the liquid as frothy drops fell from its face. Drago stood by, impatiently, with a few of his men behind him. He was to search out the immediate area and identify the land which the Scaveni now occupied. Of course, he could only start this mission after his horse stopped drinking up their water supply.

Sighing, the scout looked up, when his eyes, sharp like Wanous's axe, spotted two dots in the distance; men. Clearly, they didn't want to be seen, as they fell to the floor of the plains. Drago could tell two things from this; one, these men haven't yet seen battle to the same extreme as the Scaveni, or else they would've fled at the sight of the camp. Two, these lands belong to someone who knew not of the Scaveni's prescense, or else they wouldn't have approached on their feet.

Drago swiftly leapt atop his horse, pulling its head away from the trough, and kicked it towards the men. Those of his men who were mounted quickly followed.

"Run for it!" was cried out as the two Mycaeans burst out from their cover. They attempted to navigate the tall grass in ways to throw the riders off but it was a wide open field, making them rather easy prey. The first man, stumbling over the weight of his armor, fell onto his face, screaming out to the other. This other guard, either by cowardess or lack of perception, left his fallen comrade behind. 

The first guard began grasping at the dirt as if to somehow pull himself away from the oncoming cavalry but found himself overwhelmed easily. The second, upon finally realizing he was alone and the treeline was still far off, finally stopped and turned about to give in to these unknown men from the east.

The Scaveni riders surrounded the two guards, as Drago approached, looking at the two of them. Huh. Usually humans were a welcome sight. Speaking up in his native language, he said, "You don't happen to speak Scaveni, do you?" Already knowing the answer, he sighed, and dismounted, beginning to speak in the most recent language he's picked up on the road.

He first looked to the more distant guard, shouting in a thick accent. "You'll do more harm to your health by running in that armor than by coming back here, boy." He stood completely unarmored, with only his small axe in his belt, his hand on top of it in case either of them try anything, which is unlikely. He looked to the guard on the floor. "Quite a friend to leave you in the dirt, eh?" He chuckled, then kneeled to him, giving him his water horn. "Tell me, what are these lands called?"

The grounded guard looked up to Drago, "Myc-Mycae." he said, clearly nervous. While the other man in the field slowly started towards the four men. His arrival was quick but he still kept his distance, enough to talk clearly but far beyond the range of a thrusting spear.

His words were simple, "Who are you."

Drago waited for the guard to take the horn in his outstretched hand, but saw that the gift wasn't being recieved, frowned and stood back up. Not looking back at the other guard, he stated simply but loud enough to hear, "I am Drago. I do not know Mycae...do you live in houses or tents?"

"H-Houses?" The man answered. He finally got the courage to look Drago in the eyes, "W-why are you here?"

At this news, the blankness on Drago's face shifted, back straightened with his eyes open wide. He looked around to his men, before shouting one word; "Skuya!" At this, the rest of the horseman all started muttering to each other, that word, Scaveni for 'houses', being thrown around quite a bit. In Scaveni, Drago, instructed one of the men to report back to camp, before turning to the guard again. "Have your people not yet faced the Einherjar?"

"Ein-?" The guard said, "Is that some sort of predator?" 

Drago swallowed, twenty years of war and flight encapsulating his mind. "Yes. But worse." He looked around, biting his lip, before looking back to the guard. "My people mean yours no harm. We have been driven from our homes, in search of a new one. I am Drago Windwalker, Scavenjed of the Third Order. Please, I must speak with who leads you...there is a darkness to the east of here, one the likes of which you have never seen.

At this Drago mounted his horse. "My people...we are Scaveni,"

The Guard who had been standing narrowed his eyes, not as if to focus on a foe but it was that he had heard of something long ago, "I remember a prophecy, well, I heard it from a shady looking man in a tavern." The man on the ground shook his head, "You seriously listen to those stories?"

"Yes, you should always heed words of doom." The first motioned towards the forest, "There is someone who would benefit from your information."

Drago kicked the side of his horse, following them. A female archer in his scouting party placed her hand on an arrow, and spoke up in Scaveni. "Should I kill them? Could be Einherjar agents." Drago put his hand up. "Let us follow a while. Einherjar would send more men to kill me if it's a trap. Still though...go back to camp. Tell the King I've left to meet with some locals. The rest of you...follow." She nodded, and rode off, while the rest of his scouting party, two men on horseback, followed him into the forest.

It had been three grueling hours of ride on horseback as the group finally approached the castle. The weather had changed drastically by the time they had arrived. The bright sun had been replaced by joyless clouds and a constant change between hard rain and a cold drizzle that had by now, nearly soaked their clothing. 

The dreary weather was nothing in comparison to the massive fortress that stood high into the sky, and instead of a true moat, a deep crack in the earth did well to prevent any would be attackers from scaling the walls easily. Flanking the castle was a large mountain and a range that followed, making that direction near impossible for a large army to traverse with any order. 

At the base of this castle, across from the crag, sat a large city that contained everything from holy places to foreign gods to the taverns where the sins repented at the church were regained. The five made their way through the city and finally reached the castle gates. Drago and the Scaveni sat on their horses in front of the castle, the two scouts with mouths agape, and Drago swallowing deeply. This is the largest settlement by far that they've seen in two decades. Memories of home filled them as the two Guards said a few words to a gate keeper, followed by a simple nod and the dropping of a solid metal drawbridge. 

"Welcome to Winwaith Castle." The first man said. "This is where we stop." He continued before dismounting his horse. The Guards were met by something of their own that they feared, Legion Knights whom silently motioned for the three Scaveni to follow, and for the two Guards to return to their homes.

The ascent to the near top of the castle was nearly as grueling as the three hour ride. Stairs were seemingly in all directions, and doors that had no signifier as to what they could possibly contain. But the two Knights knew their direction without any second thought. While the Scaveni men were certainly impressed by the intricit designs of the castle, it was nothing compared to when they passed the kitchen. At the scent of fresh food, and possibly even the prospect of ripened fruit, the mens stomachs growled, mouths watering, one of the scouts even starting to drift away from the Knights, but Drago pulled him back. He was sure food would come later. Now, they must finish their hike.
 
And upon reaching a set of gilded doors, and inside was a sight to behold, a true and well adorned bassilica, furnished with manniquins wearing armor of intricate and rare design, holding weaponry of alien design to even their owner.At the opposite end of this massive room was a large stained glass window, facing the east, and at it, a feminine figure draped in shadows, only momentarily lit by the occasional strike of lightning. "Lord General, we have escorted three men who claim to know of the prophecy." one said, before bowing out. The figure nodded as it stared out the window. 

"Welcome to my Castle." the voice said with a commanding yet with a soft feminine tone. She turned to face them, "I am Lord General Joannah. May I ask where you are from?"

Drago stepped through the doors, looking at the woman. He wasn't used to a woman in this sort of role as a leader, but now wasn't the time to be rude. Instinctively, his hand moved to his Scaven Knot, making sure it was in place to signify his rank, as he motioned for his men, hesitantly waiting by the door, to follow.

"Scavenia, a land you are unlikely to know...and a land which is long gone." He walked in further, and put his fist to his chest, a Scaveni military salute, and said. "I am Drago Wildwalker, Scavenjed of the Third Order." He relaxed his hand, and glanced around the room, strangely confidant for a man of such a scrawny frame. "I must say, Sjin, this is quite a hall you've built..." He looked back to her. "Mice...ayy. Mice-ay, that is the name of this land? Correct?"

"Yes, this is the name of my homeland." Joannah paused to stare out of the window, watching as three figures made their way out of the castle. She sighed before turning back to them, "You said you're from Scavenia, and it has been... destroyed?" Her pause led to a number of steps towards them. Her figure became far more visible, with long flowing black hair that fell past her shoulders. She fixed her gaze upon Drago's eyes, "Tell me... What was it that destroyed your home?"

Drago stood tall as she approached, and said one word that sent a rush of fear through his men; "Einherjar."

She cocked her head in confusion, "What is an Einherjar? Is that your people's name for the prophecy?" Her unflinching gaze at Drago continued, staring deep into his eyes, "Are they the enemy that we have been searching for?"

Uncomforted by her gaze and closeness, Drago instictively moved his hand to his axe, before relaxing it and breathing out. "I apologize, Sjin, it has been...a while...since I have met a foreign face not trying my demise."  He coughed, and continued. "I know not of this...prophecy...you speak of..." He looked away from her. "But yes...I don't know why you would search for them...but the Einherjar are most certainly an enemy." He licked his lips. "They have pursued our people from our homeland for...what...twenty years now..ungodly creatures, with the looks of a man, but the spirit of something far more evil." He turned from her.

"It is because of them that about half a million of my people are camped in your homeland...Mice-ay."

Joannah, noticing Drago's subtle movements for his axe and stepped back calmly. "So did your people not dare to put up a fight?" He grimaced, and she frowned, "Perhaps that wasn't the right question. So what are your plans now? you're on the doorstep of a far and wide empire. And it seems the only direction for you is through us."

Drago took a deep breath. "It is not for me to decide. It is for the king...and for the Scaven...if the King permits..." He paused, before saying, with a bit more disdain in his voice. "By the way, we did dare to fight...most of us even refused to leave." He sniffed. "They are dead. The Einherjar will not stop...they will attack you soon, so we cannot stay. If you could find the kindness, Sjinn, my people would surely appreciate the permission of yours to move through this land, as well as some food...we haven't eaten a fresh apple in decades. In exchange...I would gladly share my knowledge of fighting the Darkness."

"An Apple?" Joannah said, surprised at such a simple request. "I am sure we can arrange for an apple. But the grander desire of food.." she took a deep breath, "Feeding, as you have said, half of a million people, is a very tall order. This isn't something we can even consider. But moving through our land seems somewhat reasonable, so long as you stay to specific areas I will direct you." Her frown turned to a smile, "If this amendment to your request can be agreed upon, I'd very much like to hear about this 'Darkness'."