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[i][h2]First Contact[/h2][/i][/center]

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The swell of the sea and steady winds battering them from the side was enough to send a spray of water onto the deck of their vessel. The black sail was rolled up and wound tight, lest the current would catch it and risk stealing away both balance and direction. At the fore of the ship, nestled in under the dragon-head arch sat old Hýlva, droning a loud throat-borne song and beating her weathered reindeer-skin drum. Her voice and music mingled with the wind, reverberating through each wave that hit the ship. Ronja felt the world's turmoil around them abate and ebb away as the deep song lifted the worries of the nature spirits just enough for the sea not to claim their craft. The cold waters beneath washed and sprayed against the dark wood with uneasy tension, but nevertheless carried them forward without quarrel, each heave of oars catapulting them forward on the rocking waves. 

In the darkness of night, they could just barely make out the contours of the nearest ship, and had to trust that the others had sight of the last. When day broke, they'd hopefully find they'd never left each other's side. Ronja didn't know if Hýlva's song extended the same protection to the others, if the sea would take offense at their bold walk across the water and swallow another ship. Both of them full of villagers. Her friends. Perhaps this journey was a mistake after all. She gripped the mast tighter and stared at the distant contour of the other ship. She wondered how Hakon was doing. If either of them fell overboard, her last words to him would be to shut up. She frowned to herself, leaning against the post. No, she resolved. They were chosen. Neither wind nor sea would keep them. Aveira had entrusted the future of not just Reginsvik, but the entire merelli race to them - even if she didn't fully understand yet how such a thing could be achieved. Only one thing  was certain. Darkness and swelling water would be the least of their worries. Her gaze fell down to the ram-horned dark metal helmet in her hand, and then the many spiral horned helmets among her rowing comrades. For a fleeting moment she worried, but the embrace of her overcoat burned with a gentle heat that filled her body and swelled her spirits, and she pulled it tighter around her to protect against the mild rains. Slowly Ronja's expression shifted to a smirk, and she viewed her rowing friends with pride. They were pioneers of a new era. Just like her.

"Take heart," she voiced with renewed fervor, letting go of the mast to walk among her rowing friends. "Wind, water and darkness cannot stop us. We are the promised people!"

A few of them chimed in to acknowledge her words, and Ronja took to a louder tone. "What are we?!" 

"Chosen!" The crowd shouted back, and Ronja tightened her grip on her helmet. 

"What belongs to us?!" She followed up.

"Everything!" 

She repeated the chant until they all joined in and expected it, drowning the howl of the wind with exultant cries. As she cried herself hoarse, she could hear voices in the dark; people on the other ships calling out to respond as well. 

They barely noticed how their loud ways disrupted old Hýlva's careful song, and how the waves grew in protest.

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"Careful with those, or you'll feed the dog before us." Eàmon remarked with a big grin almost as bright as his golden hair, eliciting a tired grunt from Mionn, who could only heft the net higher to try and get it free of the small wooden stumps on the side of their short jetty. Each pull threatened to both rip the net and unleash the handful of fish still violently wriggling within, eager to escape.

"You could just help me untangle it," she groaned and cast him a bothered glance from under her unkempt red locks. Her best attempt at tugging the net free only served to tangle and bunch it up further.

"No, no. You pointedly said you didn't want my hands nowhere near you. I got to oblige that, it's my honor at stake." He lectured with great amusement, waving a hand before placing it on his chest. 

Another grunt from Mionn set him straight, and Eàmon finally moved to help. "I saw you making eyes at that new white-coat. You can't very well go touching me up if you're dreaming about sowing seeds in some big town hussy. Pappy will beat me and kill you." She admonished with consternation, though accepted his help in untangling the net with clear relief.

Eàmon gave her a good-natured glance as he leant down to pull the net free. "You think so poorly of me, Mionn. I'm just curious. Ain't often we get visitors, right? Don't you ever dream about the bigger world?"

That elicited a sigh from Mionn, who reflexively tugged her net upwards as soon as it was free, and made her way down the jetty as she spoke. "The dûnans are all talk, putting their problems on other people and dragging kind-hearted folk into their weird cult. Like Dugh, remember?" 

"Not this ag--"

"[i]Not a word[/i] for near three years, then he comes in all wild-eyed raving about his new god. Sigeran this, Sigeran that. Not a care for his family. Even his Pa didn't want him around no more." Mionn concluded with a firm and lecturing tone, bunching up the net of wriggling fish to stow in a large clay bowl.

"Dugh always was that kinda way. He'll come around. Shepherding will do him good." Eàmon replied with a shrug, moving over to help untangle the net and dump out their prize.

Mionn sighed and glanced up at him, "He's my cousin, Eàmon, but I don't feel like I recogni-..." she began, pausing as her gaze fixed on the ocean. Her brows furrowed slowly, and that was enough for Eàmon to stop his work and follow her gaze. 

On the horizon, the silhouettes of three large ships bobbed closer over the water. Black sails and dark wood was enough to make them foreign, but the design was nothing like either of them had seen. Eàmon narrowed his eyes and watched the approaching ships with deep thought and scrutiny. For a brief slice of silence, both of them just stood there, watching the silhouettes until it was clear the ships were coming straight for them. 

"Go and get my pappy, Mionn. He knows all the boats what come through here." Eàmon murmured.

Within minutes, the entire village was abuzz with the gnawing sensation that something was wrong.

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"No movement, far as I can see." Arvid mumbled from the fore of the ship, turning back to face the crouching mass of warriors holding their equipment. Only a few were rowing now, slowing the advance of the ship to a crawl. On each side was another ship, filled to the brim with eager youth looking ahead or staring over to Ronja's ship for the go ahead.

"Why would it be abandoned?" Ronja mused idly, stroking a lock of white hair away from her face. In truth, she doubted it was, but Aveira had always said to consider every possibility.

"I saw someone, I swear it." The younger Jari piped up, only to be shushed by Arvid, and quickly looking back down at the deck at the behest of his elder.

"The promised land was supposed to be unsettled," Arvid argued in turn, rubbing at his face before facing the faraway shore again. "Did we sail off course?"

"Hýlva says the spirits carried us straight. The stars have said the same. This is where the [i]gutakvínn[/i] wished us to go." Soini spoke up from among the waiting warriors, wearing a grim look in his face. He exchanged a brief glance with Ronja, and she couldn't help but reflect over how different he looked. In the ramhorn helmet and black wear, even the baker's son looked imposing. Grown up. Like a real warrior. She nodded to him, and he gave a firm nod in return.

"This isn't the promised land?" One of the younger men spoke up amidst the crowd. A few mutterings spread among the youthful warriors, followed by short debates and calls to shut up. 

Ronja frowned deeply, and gripped the axe handle in her hand firmly. It was now or never. "We are the chosen! These people have tried to steal what is rightfully ours! Soini, Arvid. Lead our people on the ground. Let us show these trespassers what the rightful settlers are worth." The two boys nodded in turn, and gestured firmly to the assembled warriors. The rowing commenced in full force, and soon the other two ships followed suit. On Hakon's ship, someone banged a drum in rhythmic tension. Jari followed suit, and soon the final ship joined in as well. Among the soldiers, Soini led the initiative to hammer his axe handle into the deck, in rhythm with the drums. A loud, imposing melody followed them ashore. Ronja stared ahead, feeling a strange grip on her gut. 

Destiny was in reach.

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After she'd gotten the village's attention, everything had gone so fast. Mionn pressed herself together underneath the sheepskin pelt, huddled in the corner of her family's little hovel. Her mother wasn't far away, pulling young Calidigh into a comforting embrace and shushing his questions. None of the men wanted to answer what it meant, but Mionn knew what the looks on their faces had meant - she'd seen the same look each time refugees, preachers or warriors came from the west, taking the Dûnan war with them each time. 

Outside she could hear her father's gravelly voice - muffled as it was through the walls. A few moments later the leather drapes blocking the door swept open, and another shape stepped into the musty old house. Long light brown hair and the white apparel gave it away instantly; the dûnan woman. She looked at the three of them sheepishly before clearing her throat. "Murtàgh said to come in here…" 

Mionn's mother nodded and gestured at the free space left. Before long, the white-coat sidled over to slide down awkwardly next to Mionn, and almost immediately started fiddling with her hands. Mionn looked at her for longer than she'd allowed herself to in the past - she couldn't be much older than Mionn herself. Nineteen, maybe. The woman caught her looking and sent her a sheepish, faint smile. "...Mionn, right? I'm Teagan."

Mionn exhaled and looked away. "You dûnans always bring trouble," she muttered, earning her an instant reprimand from her mother. Mionn shot her a sour glance and pulled her legs up against her body.

"Y-... You mean the ships? That has nothing to do with me," Teagan eventually cut in, glancing between all assembled. "I'm sure it's nothing. This is a pious place, the gods won't allo-"

"Just be quiet," Mionn bit back sharply and pre-empted her mother's next admonishment with another sour glance. Teagan looked crestfallen, but followed her new instructions and simply looked down. 

The next few minutes were carried out in silence, with only the occasional muffled sound of talking from outside. Calidigh seemed not to understand why they were just sitting there, and tried to break the tension by moving away. Mother quickly set him right and shushed him once more.

It didn't last long. The muffled voices were replaced by stamping feet, shouting, and the clatter of broken pottery. Something inside her froze up, and Mionn felt her entire back go stiff as the world outside took a new turn. Voices she'd never heard before shouted and hollered from outside; she couldn't make out what they were saying - it didn't even sound like anything she'd heard before. Deep and angry voices echoing and jeering from all sides of their little hovel.

Mionn felt her breath catch in her throat and heard her heart pounding in her ears. Fear began to grip the four of them as they listened to the growing shouting outside, and the crash and clatter of broken pottery and wood.

The flimsy door to their little hiding place swung open with enough force to rip from its top hinge, and two tall figures with giant horned helmets rushed inside. Mionn heard her mother scream in fear and surprise, and felt her whole body freeze. Her eyes locked on the axes in their hands. They barked at them in some awful language, and moved to pull them from their hiding spot one by one. Teagan panicked beside her and threw herself up at the invader, begging for mercy. Mionn heard the crack of skin against skin as they struck her, and saw her tumble to the ground with a whimper. She tried to move from her crouch but her legs wouldn't listen, even as her mother screamed for her, escorted out of the hovel with a crying Calidigh in her arms, under threat of axe. 

Someone shouted at her, a long dark coat and a weapon dangled in front of her threateningly. Mionn didn't have time to do anything - before she could truly react she felt a painful and firm grip of her hair, and the invader pulled hard to drag her out towards the exit. The pain was intense, shooting through her head until her eyes were welling up with tears and her breath was gone. It felt like he was pulling her skull from her body, and each scrape and cut along the ground only made it worse. 

The cold breeze from the sea washed over her face and bare arms as she was dragged outside. The horror from inside was replaced by foreign chatter and the cries of others captured in the same way. A last burning pain rocked through Mionn's hairline as the invader pulled harder to throw her, and the dirt and gravel below scraped angrily against her skin and flax tunic. Her arm and knee burned with fresh scrapes, and even as the figure finally let go of her, her scalp felt like it had been permanently set ablaze with pain. Mionn pushed tear-welled eyes open and saw the carnage for herself.

Several dozen… maybe almost a hundred... black-clad pale invaders littered every nook and cranny of their little village, and more scurried around three large dragon headed ships at the stony beach. Most were wearing dark helmets with thick rounded horns, but a few wore no such headgear. She could see men and women alike, youthful and imposing with a fragile and fascinating beauty that made them both a wonder to behold, and a fright, as the strange fixation taking root in her mind contrasted starkly to their hard, angry faces and the weapons. Black and grey horns poked between the hair of those few without helmets - Mionn had seen merelli before, but never like this. They were never more than a few in a single place, never so angry. 

Around her was almost everyone else in the village, assembled and dragged out into little communal area where their houses intersected. A cry of pain and protest came from behind, and Mionn looked over her shoulder in time to see the whitecloak Teagan get dragged and shoved her way as well. There wasn't enough time, and the young druid crashed into Mionn - just another bout of pain in the frenzied panic going on.

One of the dark clad invaders removed his helmet to reveal a young and statuesque face, it too adorned by short black horns. He barked at them angrily, pointing at the house to his right. There were no words that Mionn could even begin to make out. Even if she had tried, the freezing dread in her body refused to let her head work as it should. The invader paced in front of them, gesturing wildly at both them and their houses as he shouted. Teagan crawled up off the ground and earned a pull on her braid for her insolence, dragging her back to what Mionn was only now realizing was a lineup. Were their fates sealed already?

Eàmon seemed to think so, the young man burst from his anxious seat in the line to stand up beside the pacing invader. His hands nestled in the black coat, and an incoherent stream of pleading and demands left the boy's mouth. It was too fast for Mionn to catch, but it included sparing the women. He stared down at the invader as he kept him in place and for a moment Mionn watched him with renewed hope in the midst of her fears. The invader grabbed both sides of Eàmon's tunic and swept a firm leg to kick the human boy's legs out from under him. Eàmon fell hard to the ground, aided by a half-throw as the invader shoved his hands free of him. A dark boot came down on him, and within moments two more merelli burst forwards to assist in beating him down with firm, quick stomps all over his body to the tune of panicked and angry screaming from his captive family. Mionn was quiet, staring at the battery with a cold grip freezing her spine all the way through her form.

Eventually the beating stopped, and Eàmon wheezed out a weak sign of life through pain and bruising. The horned man did not care. He began shouting again, pointing down at Eàmon before sweeping his hand in a gesture towards all of them. Each motion of his hand made Mionn cringe with fright, and by the chorus of cries it elicited the same in others. A tap on the invader's shoulder made him pause. Another merelli - a youthful pale woman with almost shimmering white hair and black horns murmured something to him in their foreign tongue, and he seemed to calm down. She gestured at Eàmon, and the violent invader and a comrade moved forwards to drag him back into line. When they moved aside, the woman stepped forward. Her coat was longer and stiffer, black as night. It almost looked like armour. She scanned the line briefly before settling her gaze beside Mionn. She flicked her hand in a gesture, and her mother - still carrying Calidigh - was pulled to a stand. She sobbed quietly but dared not speak. Instead the merelli woman spoke. "Er ther sjalfraett ta ganga fri."

She repeated the words slowly, and gestured towards the grazing fields beyond the village. Mionn murmured for her mother, and others looked confused. Eventually the woman grabbed her mother by the arm and dragged her two feet while pointing at the fields. The other invaders moved out of their way. Confused and sobbing, Mionn's mother carried Calidigh away from the village. Mionn called for her, feeling her fear build selfishly inside her. A boot came down on her back, silencing her and pushing her into the dirt firmly. She watched helplessly from the ground as her mother and little brother were made to abandon them, and wander out of the village. 

Then the woman squatted down in front of Mionn, and the pressure of the boot lessened to allow her to look up at her. "Ef er gett aet hvert naste manna-vist ydr, er ther sjalfraett ta ganga fri." The woman spoke - gibberish to Mionn beyond that strange pull the words seemed to have on her. They felt surreal and otherworldly. The pale woman repeated the same words and gestured out towards the fields. 

Mionn stared at her in panic. What did she want? Was she taunting her? Was she gonna kill her? She didn't want to die. She'd do whatever, beg and plead - yet her lips refused to move? Words came in a murmur from her father no more than two feet away. "I think she wants us to give up more villages…"

"Maybe we'll get to go free if we comply…." Teagan whispered from her other side. Mionn sent her an incredulous stare. This woman was barely her senior, yet so willing to doom others. Even now, the distaste she had for dunans seemed to bubble and overtake her fear. 

Mionn parted her lips to push out sound at last. "Ha-... Ha-Dûna…" she managed quietly, and saw the captive whitecloak beside her widen her eyes in realization and sudden panic. The white haired woman leaned in closer to Mionn, forcing forwards a thin, polite smile as she listened. "To the west… there is a rich place called Ha-Dûna. It will have an-..."

Teagan shot up beside her to a stand, surprising both invaders and captives. Her arm flailed to point east as a man stepped forward to wrestle her down. Panicked and spiteful the druid screamed to overpower Mionn's voice. "Scawick! It's right beyond the hills! Not more than three days! They have food and wealth and all you could ever want! You should go east! Scawick is ripe for your conquest, mighty peo-... Hnngh.."

Teagan was silenced as she was struck from behind, and then forcibly sat down again. "You bitch, we have family by Scawick!" Edragr the Woodsman roared from down the line, earning himself a swift bash on the head. 

The merelli woman looked at Teagan, and then back to Mionn, who felt tears welling up in her eyes. She was tired, scared, and she'd wasted her words wishing misfortune on someone else. The pale woman tapped a finger to her lips in thought, before murmuring to herself. "Skaevik," before standing up and raising her voice to address the other invaders. "Wi ganga fra at Skaevik!" She gestured quickly at the line, and several invaders rushed forwards to grab everyone. Mionn felt hands grab her arms and lift her painfully from the ground. She saw the woman staring at her as she was dragged past, and she met her gaze exhausted by pain and fear. 

Behind her, crying and shouting resumed. Chief among them Teagan the Whitecloak demanded to be released, but judging by her screaming protests, no one listened. One by one they were dragged to the beach, and the dark dragon-head ships. 

Within the hour, the village was quiet. Empty of people, goods, and small livestock. Only two people - one of which was barely three - had witnessed the vanishing of a village.

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[hider=Summary]
Merelli Vikings arrive at a peaceful coastal village, take captives, force them to tell them about other places, then move on with the loot and people. They learn of Scawick and Ha-Dûna. One mother and her child are free to tell the tale.
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