[center][color=aba000][h2]Trygve[/h2][/color][/center]
[center][Sub]Location: Outskirts of Mjors[/sub]
[@AlidaMaria][@Jin Of Mana][/center]
[hr]

Trygve rode at a pace with traveler's carts, careful to be gentle with the horse beneath him. They were moving at a fairly quick pace at the moment and Trygve knew the horse would not be able to support his weight much longer without a fairly long rest and a meal. For the most part, Trygve usually walked besides the animal when the carts were moving slowly, sparing the beast for moments like these. He rubbed the animals neck gently trying to soothe the creature as it breathed heavily but carried along at their steady trot. Trygve glanced around at the trees that surrounded them, sniffing slightly at the air. Mjors simply did not smell right, he missed the salty scent of the South Sea along the shores of Hakaskar, the warm sun heating the sand beneath. Here the air was cold with the knowledge that he could not bring himself to go back for quite some time, and the earth was muddy beneath them. He winced as his head gave a dull throb of pain, for even now months after he had entered the Beserker's Rage he could feel its effects working on him. He shook his head, ignoring the pain and glanced around at his fellow travelers.

He had joined up with Thorbrand's group about six months ago in Mjors. Trygve's father had taught Thorbrand the basic techniques of the warhammer when Thorbrand had first arrived in Hakaskar, so Trygve had known him at least casually. When he had heard Thorbrand was preparing to leave Mjors and return to Ballara, he had decided to join with him to see the lands of his mother. He needed a rest from the bays of Hakaskar and the uncomfortable looks of his comrades in arms. While none of them had been killed during his rage, several had been seriously injured. He felt grateful to Thorbrand for allowing him to come with them and work for him for these past six months. Ingrid, a long companion, of Thorbrand's had begun to warm up to him after the first few encounters that required the use of his hammer and seemed to at least respect his prowess if not fully befriend him. Trygve could not blame her for that, he knew he was intimidating to most. He respected her ability in kind, though he knew little about her never having had the opportunity to truly converse with her beyond anything but the events around them.

As he rode next to one of the merchant's wagons, he noticed one of the merchants younger sons. The boy, somewhere between the age of 10 and 12, sat inside the wagon shivering slightly in the cool air of the forest surrounding them. Trygve absently reached into one of the pouches along his horses side and pulled out one of his extra blankets tossing it inside one of the wagons with a small grunt to attract the boys attention. The boy looked up, a somewhat nervous expression on his face as he looked at Trygve before glancing down at the blanket. [color=aba000]"Put that on before you fall ill."[/color] Trygve spoke calmly and gently, but with a noticeable tone of command in his voice that had the boy covering himself before he was even aware that he was doing it. Trygve grunted in satisfaction and turned his gaze back to the road around them.

Something seemed off about the forest, Trygve frowned and glanced around suspiciously. He was not sure that he would be able to trust his instincts here in an unfamiliar landscape. Was it possible that the had disturbed some sort of spirit that resided in the forest? Ingrid seemed to have noticed something as well as she dropped her position next to his own. [color=00aeef]“Tryg, I don’t know what it is, but there’s something dangerous close by, watching us. I’ll inform Thor, be prepared for anything.[/color] She was obviously upset by the sense of impending danger. He gave her a firm nod and reach behind him and released the small leather clasps that strapped his warhammer to his back. He pulled the weapon out by its head and then let the weapon fall forward at the ground till he had a firm grip on the handle. 

His weapon was the only item that he had that could truly be said to be sized for him. His armor was too small, barely held together by several leather straps that made it uncomfortable to move around normally. As much would like to grab his shield and get off his horse to be better prepared to face whatever foe now stalked them, he needed to remain on his horse, ready to move quickly if Thorbrand ordered it. He glanced over at the boy wearing his blanket and motioned for him to keep low in the wagon. He then turned and motioned for the mercenaries to also ready themselves. While Trygve did not speak as often as others seemed to, his meaning was still clear to understand. He felt the pain grow slightly as his body readied itself for the possibility of combat. Trygve set his face in a stone like expression of determination and kept lookout for whatever danger he and Ingrid had sensed nearby.