"Albion?..." Amal echoed, clearly at a loss as to what land that was. Never having formal education would do that to someone. Luckily for the moment the rain had subsided, but Amal had a feeling it would come back momentarily. Hopefully the Giant didn't follow in its wake. That thing had been as large as the statues overlooking the Pyramid of Settra the Imperishable. Amal had seen an Ogre once or twice on the market-coasts of Araby, not to mention the one they had stumbled upon when he had first met Emmaline, and those brutes likely reached only that thing's knee! 

"It's an island," Emmaline explained once she regained her composure. The confirmation of where they were had shocked her for a brief moment. "Large enough to be a small country, off the coast of the Empire. I think it's below Norsca though?"

"Close enough, my lady." Sir Brenly said, stalking over to them. He stepped lightly for one so stout and old. Satisfied the giant wouldn't return, he seemed now afraid of ghosts or an imagined threat looming all around them. "Tis a land of savage men and Orcs, and a haunt of...well giants. There might be more giants here than even the Drakwald, I dare say!" 

"The what?" Amal asked incredulously. "I am sorry, but your northern lands are very strange and foreign to me. Lustria was more homey than here." 

"The Drakwald is a big forest. I had the privilege of escorting the Queen to Middenhiem on a diplomatic mission in my youth." He explained, blushing slightly at what must have been a good memory. Their small reverie was interrupted by a sound of stamping hooves not a dozen meters away, the sound having been muted from the boggy, moist earth. A horse whinnied loudly and four horsemen made it over a crest of land past the nearest copse of trees. 

The men looked savage, but there was intelligence in their eyes. Despite the cold they had bare torsos save for wolfskin pelts that clung to their heads and backs. Odd tattoos in blue marked their face, arms, and chest, and the tattoos danced rhythmically as the horses trotted. They each bore spears and shields, with leaf shaped broadswords sheathed at their sides. One of the men cried "Airm réidh!" and the spears were leveled at the three foreigners. Luckily the carpet had rolled itself up onto the ground. 

"Och! Who the bloody 'ell are you and wha' are ye doin' 'ere?" 
[@Penny]