[center][h1][b][u]Brundt[/u][/b][/h1][/center] [hr] Brundt did not know how long he had been walking. He continued his aimless stumbling through the forest, almost oblivious to his surroundings. Occasionally he would trip over a root or a plant, but he would only get back up and keep moving. His knees were scraped, and his clothes were now stained with dirt as well as soot. He felt numb, and all he could think to do was keep walking, ignoring the soreness in his feet and the agonizing pain in his face. In the near distance came the low chatter of two voices, intermittently interrupted by laughter. The voices got louder, and soon enough, a pair of white-robed shadows wielding long branches approach further down the path. Then there was silence, no doubt as the shadows noticed Brundt. They hurried over to him, the light revealing more and more features of their forms, particularly their human faces, one old, graying man and one younger, though still not particularly young, woman. “By the gods,” voiced the man and the two slowed their approach as they neared him. “... My son, what happened to you?” He stopped, then stared at the two strangers blankly. Fresh tears began to well up in his eyes, and he began to back away. Invitingly, the man stretched out a hand, while the woman started rummaging through her satchel, pulling out small pots and containers labeled with odd glyphs and drawings of leaves. The man beckoned warmly and said, “You don’t need to be afraid, my son. We mean you no harm.” He stopped backing away when his back hit a tree, and he began to process the stranger’s words. Then he slumped down into a sitting position, holding his knees against his chest. The man offered him a perfectly reassuring smile and allowed himself to shuffle in a little closer, his partner offered him the pots of what seemed to be ointments, as well as some bandages fashioned from torn linen shirts. The man took one of the bandages and rubbed it thoroughly in some of the ointment. “We see you’ve gotten hurt. Let’s try to see that it doesn’t hurt so badly, hmm? Kaer Anni, if you would.” The woman nodded with a weak smile and took her stick, peering towards the sky and mouthing some words. The man looked back at Brundt. “This won’t hurt at all, my son. It’ll just be like falling asleep.” With that, a wave of sleepiness washed through Brundt’s body, as though it was in the middle of the night and way past his bedtime. In the moments before he closed his eyes, he saw and to a degree felt the old man scrape at his cheek with ointment. When Brundt woke up again, it was nightfall, and he was packed in a soft and somewhat moth-ridden bedroll. A few metres away flickered a campfire behind two seated shadows, one of them sucking on a pipe, the other stirring in a stomach-shaped “pot” suspended over the fire on a twig. He reached a hand up to feel the bandage on his face, wincing and letting out a barely audible whimper as he touched it. The two by the fire turned around, the old man offering some dry, smokey coughs. “Oh, you’re awake. Kaer Anni, would you fill him a bowl, please?” “Of course, Kaer Mirh,” replied the woman and took a wooden ladle and started filling a wooden bowl with what was likely a soup of sorts. The old man shuffled a little closer to the bedrolled boy, taking the bowl from Kaer Anni on the way and passed it onto Brundt along with a spoon. “So, how are you feeling?” Brundt made no move to eat the food in front of him. “Everyone is dead…” he whispered, his voice hoarse. He realized in that moment he was more thirsty than hungry. The old man frowned sympathetically. Kaer Anni had also shuffled over, bringing with her a bowl for both her partner and herself each. She gave her bowl a gingerly sip. “Did your village get attacked?” she asked carefully. Kaer Mirh blew a slow-growing plume. Memories of the slaughter flashed before the boy’s eyes, and he gave a barely perceptible nod. The two nodded along somberly. “Nothing is worse than such needless, sudden loss,” consoled Kaer Mirh. “But for a child to see it… Terrible, just terrible.” He unsheathed a flint sickle from the rope about his waist and used its tip to scrape some ashes out of the pipe bowl. “The gods never wish for these sorts of things to happen, but not even they can keep an eye on all the misfortune that befalls our challenging lives sometimes.” Having scraped out the ashes, he strapped both the pipe and the sickle to his belt. “I will not tell you to forget what has happened, my son - our great lord of truth, Fìrinn, demands that we all live in accordance with our truths, after all.” He sighed. “However, do not allow yourself to be consumed by the horror that is the truth, either - seek solace for now in contact with others, solace in the love of the gods, in the beauty of nature.” “G-gods?” Brundt whispered. “F-father said he was chosen by Cadien. But father is dead, and Evandra saved me…” Kaer Mirh nodded, and Kaer Anni responded, “An honour to be chosen - and a curse to stand out. That you were saved by the flame is fortunate, for certain, though…” She eyed the bandage with a somber frown. “Her mark will stay with you forever, my son. As with your father, it may be an honour - and it may be a curse.” “We cannot say for certain, however,” Kaer Mirh added. “While the past is set in stone, the future is written with the wind - the song of the world can offer the insights beyond mere mortal minds, and both sun and moon see the world from leagues above the surface; and yet, no matter how hard we try, the future remains the greatest mystery of all.” He smiled sorrowfully at Brundt. “Have you kinsmen in other villages? Anywhere you can stay?” He thought for a moment, then shrugged. “I don’t know.” Kaer Anni once more offered Brundt his bowl of broth. “Any relatives that might’ve gotten away?” He recalled the massacre outside the gate, and shook his head. Kaer Mirh and Kaer Anni exchanged looks. Kaer Anni shrugged and then Kaer Mirh said, “Alright. Have some broth to recover your strength, and then we’ll set off in the morning. You can stay with us until we reach the next village over.” “Or however long you’d like,” the woman added. Brundt’s gaze lowered to the bowl in his hands, and then he slowly spooned some of the liquid into his mouth. It was watery and only slightly flavoured by the bones it was made with - had it boiled for longer, it would’ve been tastier, most likely. However, it was liquid and rich in fats and protein - the ideal mixture for a swift recovery. Kaer Anni nodded. “Good. Keep drinking that and get yourself some rest when you’re full. Tomorrow will be a long day and, unfortunately, Kaer Mirh here hasn’t recovered his favour with the Moon and the Mountain yet, so he can neither help with respite nor endurance.” The old man scratched his chin gingerly. “Well, that hunter was also in dire need, I say…” “Oh, sure, sure. You just make sure to keep praying and look out for shiny stones to offer, okay?” “Don’t have to tell me, Kaer Anni,” mumbled the old man, and then rose to his feet and wandered into the woods. The woman turned to offer Brundt another perfect smile. “It takes time and ritual for us to replenish our magic. We’re sorry we cannot do more for you.” Brundt said nothing more, instead choosing to finish his broth and go back to sleep. [hr] The next morning started as early as the sun came up, when Brundt was awoken by two whispers coming from the druids kneeling on the path where the sun shone the brightest, facing the sky. They intertwined one hand each with the other’s and held their free hand up with a flat palm. Both had their eyes closed, and their voices seemed almost eerie and two-toned, as though something else within them also spoke. He sat up and watched, remaining silent as he attempted to hear what they were saying. “... in your light that the plants grow, the beasts see and we live. Oraelia on high, we greet you a very fine morning and ask humbly that your sun will light our path until Gibbou calls for us to rest once more. We are forever faithful to you.” With that, the druids prostrated themselves humbly once before getting up and dusting their robes off. “You were a little off on your spiritsong, Kaer Anni,” mumbled the old man. The woman’s eye twitched ever so slightly. “W-well, it’s not -my- fault someone overslept so I didn’t have time to do my vocal exercises!” “Excuses, excuses,” Kaer Mirh replied playfully. “Next time, just ignore me and go ahead with the exercises. You know me well enough by now that you should remember that I never miss morning prayers, and--... Oh! Good morning, my son.” Kaer Anni turned to follow his gaze and also put on a smile. “Good morning, my son,” she echoed. “Would you like some breakfast?” He nodded. “Who is Gibbo?” he asked quietly. “It’s ‘Gibbou’, my son. She is the moon high above us - the largest one, mind you; the purple one is, uh, is Cadien’s.” While Kaer Mirh talked, Kaer Anni pulled out some flatbread and dried meat from her satchel, which she offered to Brundt. “Gibbou is our guardian in the night, and she makes certain that the hunters in the dark always just so happen to look elsewhere than where we happen to be when they’re out hunting.” The boy took a bite out of the dried meat, chewed quietly, and then swallowed. “Why didn’t the gods save my village?” he asked them. The druids sat down on each side of Brundt, facing in the same direction as him. Kaer Anni took a bite of her own piece of bread and Kaer Mirh pulled out his pipe, patting a bowlfull of dried herbs into the bowl. “... Now that’s a question we hear quite often.” He stuck the mouthpiece in between his perfect teeth and patted his cloak down. Evidently not finding what he was looking for, he shuffled over to last night’s campfire and started digging in the coals and ashes until he found a still smouldering piece of wood. He pressed it as hard as he could against the herbs in the bowl, sucking through air as though it was a snorkel. After a much longer period than it should’ve taken, the herbs eventually started smouldering, too, and Kaer Mirh lobbed the piece of wood back into the campfire pit. Blowing a long plume of smoke, he replied softly. “See, my son - contrary to what some parts of this world believe, the gods aren’t almighty. Oh, they’re strong, sure, but they can’t do everything - not on their own, at least.” For a moment, the old man eyed the sky as though he feared lightning would strike even though there wasn’t a cloud in sight. “It’s likely they didn’t see your village in peril, or that they simply couldn’t look away from what they were doing - wherever they are…” The old man sighed and squeezed Brundt’s shoulder gently. “The gods are not to blame for the destruction of your village, my child, and finding someone to put the blame on can be a journey far more dangerous than the raid itself. Like we said yesterday - don’t forget it, but don’t let yourself be consumed by the memories, either. Make it a part of your truth, for it is already part of reality.” The sentence was punctuated by more smoke. He nodded slowly. “Oh-okay,” he said, wiping the tears from his eyes. He finished eating the meat, and moved onto the bread. “Um… where are we going to go?” “If we’re not mistaken, there’s a village not too far from your home - I’d say about a day or two on foot - which should have places to stay for all of us. Morganstead, I think it’s called. You’ve heard of it?” He nodded. “Good, then this oughta be a little easier for all of us,” Kaer Mirh said in relief. “Alright, eat up, you two, and we’ll be on our way soon enough.” “Don’t hasten yourself,” Kaer Anni added with a grin aimed at Brundt. “Take the time you need. We’re in no rush.” Kaer Mirh pursed his lips skeptically, but shrugged and got to packing his things. Kaer Anni did the same. [hr] Sure enough, roughly two days later - the pace being a little slower than the druids were used to - they arrived in Morganstead, a small hamlet consisting of seven mud huts with thatch roofs, surrounded by green, unripe fields of various grains, separated by drainage pits and wicker fences. Among the fields wandered the odd goat, sneaking a bite or two of the nutritious stalks. The villages were tending to their various tasks, and a few lit up upon seeing the trio entering the hamlet grounds. They were approached by a small crowd who recognised the white robes and immediately came to the druids to beg for medicine, healing, stronger grain, more fertile goats. “All in due time, all in due time,” Kaer Mirh said calmingly as though he had been through this a thousand times. “Me and my kinswoman Kaer Anni will take care of your sick, your wounded and your expecting very soon. First, however, we come with grave news - and a gift.” Gently, Kaer Mirh guided Brundt up front. “Thyma to the south suffered a terrible raid a few days past. None were spared. To those of you who had kinsmen in the village - we offer our deepest condolences.” The crowd thickened and worry and fear spread outwards like wildfire. Kaer Mirh raised his hand for all to quiet down, and almost as if by magic, the villagers did. “That being said, one managed to make it away.” He patted Brundt on the shoulder. “We pray that in exchange for our aid with whatever you may need, you will take Brundt in as one of your own. No child should see what he had seen, and I pray you can help him move on.” The village chieftain, a brown-haired man in his early thirties, stepped forward. “That is a fair enough deal,” he agreed. “But what of those who attacked Thyma? That village was ten times the size of our own. What if our village is next?” “Me and my kinswoman here will journey to survey the village of Thyma. In the days after we leave, you will task one watchman with staring skywards. If we find that danger is heading your way, then the star of the North will flash a pinkish red for one whole night. That will be the signal for you to evacuate. If you see nothing for four days, then the roving bandits that attacked Thyma did not cross our path.” “Very well,” the chieftain nodded. “We will find a place for the boy, in exchange for your services.” Brundt, somewhat nervous at the prospect of being exchanged like that, looked nervously from the chieftain to the druids. Kaer Anni knelt down and patted him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, my son. You’ll feel right at home here. Go on.” She gently pushed at his back so he’d move forward. Brundt reluctantly complied. The chieftain gave the boy a nod. “I think Beric and Greta have some space,” he looked to a middle-aged man with greying blond hair. “Is that so?” “We have space, aye,” he nodded. “Could use an extra pair of hands on the farm. Once that wound is healed up, of course.” “Good, good,” said the old man. “Now, who needed me to come check on a sick mother?” The druids were quickly pulled along to various parts of the hamlet to offer their services. [hr] [hider=Sumsum] Brundt is walking in the forest when some druids - Kaer Mirh and Kaer Anni - notice him. They notice his burned face and decide to help him out, applying ointment and bandages to the wound. He tells them a bit about what happened to his village, and they talk a bit about the gods. They give him some food, and in the morning decide to take him to another village nearby, where he might be able to stay. They arrive at the next village - Morganstead - and the druids offer their services to the locals on the condition that they take Brundt in. After that, they plan to head back to Thyma and survey the ruins, to see if the bandits are gone. [/hider] [hider=Prestige Summary] [u]Brundt[/u] [b]Beginning Prestige:[/b] 5 +5 for more than 10k characters. [b]Ending Prestige:[/b] 10 [u]Circle of the Long Stride[/u]: 15k characters = +5 prestigios, ending at a total of 5. [/hider]