Eddie
Tharn,
Hillcrest overlooking the Grey Hills

Atop one of the tallest hills in the southern region of Northwind, a large and overbearing being gazed upon the jutted rock and mounds of earth with his yellow eyes, golden struck by the shining of sunlight. It was an open sky ridden light blue with a yellow hot sun making fauna and flora bask in its luminous gaze. The creature looked humanoid for all of its bestial traits, from the sheer sculpted size, huge among men, to the thick hair that covered his chest, his abdomen, his arms and armpits. It was no excess of fur, but it rid his muscles, definition of tautness, and formed a beard to cover his jawline and chin, half of his cheeks struck furred. His glare wrote viscera on the hills before him. In the distance, cut off by elevation, stone and wood, there were several settlements. Villages, towns, cities, all burning smoke into the air and drowning their sunny day in dark grey.

"Humans are so fragile." He smirked a maddened stretch of lips. His right side's fangs were exposed. "They build walls around them and pray that is enough to keep their enemies away. Either that, or they wait to stab their enemies in the back." He spat on the ground and chuckled. His chest heaved with every laugh. "Twisted little insects, all of them. But they *Are* Delicious." Tharn licked his upper lip and turned around. With the landscape of the Grey Hills going as far as the line of the horizon behind him, he now stared at a horde of rabid barbarians below him. They looked eager, their eyes were bloodshot. They were at his whim, clear and true as the cycle of day and night came through. 

"Wolves and cubs! We have been snacking for too long!" He roared, voice thundering down the steepness of the hill. "There are sheep and pigs just beyond this hill! And you know what kind of flock I am *Really* Talking about." Human flesh! Tender when it was raw, so crispy when burned in the inferno the horde would bring. "Come now! Bare your fangs and ready your weapons! We have meat to feast on all day and night!! From village to village, town to town, we will eat them *All*!!"

Thus began the savage rush of the wolfmen down the hills. They were about to fell their first mark, bereft of caution and subterfuge as they charged and howled to strike fear and despair.
Dale
Darin Zacharov,
Grey Hills county.

Most would probably think that the life of a count was filled with luxury, indulgence and relaxation. Sometimes, even Darin found himself thinking that. Usually when he was relaxing in a hot bath or the likes. But no. Maybe it was his impulsive nature. Maybe it was the alien, northern gods that had a plan for him. Maybe it was just his luck. But the Duke Conqueror was not given time to rest, nor time to recuperate. After having walked his way through about half of Northwind with waterlogged freezing boots, he had been looking forwards to firstly headbutting his men back into line, then taking a nice moment to relax. But noooooo.. The ravenous barbarian hoards just *HAD* To make their assault today. The Duke had barely had time to enjoy a glass of warm milk and change out of his stolen clothes before he heard that he was needed at the frontlines. The cup had been thrown at some poor servant who was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and Darin had thrown himself onto a horse- barely with enough time to tie his boots. A motley bunch of men had been assembled, partially local militia, partially trained soldiers, and three or so local knights. It wasn't an army. Hell, it was barely a warband. But with Darin riding at the front, perhaps they had a smidegon of a chance in repulsing the invaders. This would be tested as they found themselves staring at a hill- but more importantly, the ravenous, cannibalistic, and no doubt hungry, barbarian horde that was coming just their direction. Such was the life of a Duke. *Stressful.*
Eddie
Tharn Skorn,
Grey Hills

The wolfmen raced in the direction of the settlement, making it a competition to see who would get there first and claim the first kill. As they did, the wooden gates of the palisade wrapped town opened to greet them. Through those gates came a man riding on horseback, followed by warriors gleaming in the hot sun. They were heavily armored, contrast to the shoddy militia that lagged behind them. Tharn Skorn relished in the resistance of his prey. It would hopefully make for good entertainment before sating his hunger for human meat and quenching his thirst for *Blood*. He picked up a pace that was unnatural to his savages, passing one then another until he was part of the frontline. Ever closer to the countering charge of the Duke and his ragtag band of defenders, the hulking humanoid creature grasped the shoulder of one of his wolfmen and planked his left foot hard on the ground. His body turned in the motion of his arms, hurling the whining and screaming human wolf towards the horserider.

The frontline engaged the knights with quantity over quality. They tried to swarm the chargers head on and strike at horse and man with bloodied blades and clubs. Their intent was to throw the warriors off their horses and gang up on them, strike their armor over and over if they could. The horde itself encircled the opposing force, its flanks hit the palisade and began to squeeze through numbers to try and push their way around the militia and slip into town as well as fight them off in the attempt to surround and obliterate them.
Dale
Throwing one of your own men as makeshift ammunition. That was the kind of callous disregard for people that Darin had to appreciate. Still, he was sadly not left with much time to appreciate it as the furry cannonball ended up tumbling into him. He was just about to spit some kind of curse, insult, or just an expression of surprise, but he felt the wind leave his chest as the ground came up to meet him. Darin found his vision wavering briefly as he regained his sense of place- finding himself under an equally dumbfounded looking Wildman. Darin however regained his senses a split second earlier, and just as the barbarian on top of him started to realise that his prey was right below him, Darin's fist was already racing up to deliver a firm hit to his upturned, snout-looking nose. The barbarian was left in a brief recoil, which Darin used to push himself free, and onto his feet again. Alright, he battle hadn't started as well as he had hoped.

They were already surrounded, Sir Buhre was already getting pulled down from his horse by various hairy miscreants, and morale was depleting faster than the mulled wine stores on Hogcock. Darin saw all these problems, and found that killing (Or at least, gravely wounding) someone would help with all of them. Barely gliding out of the way from some wolfman's club, Darin quickly scrambled in search for his axe. His preferred tool of evoking violence had been separated from him during the fall from his horse, and he saw it laying on the ground just a couple meters away- glittering from reflected sunlight amongst the dust the fight was kicking up. Without too much of a second thought, he scrambled over, through some stroke of luck avoiding (most of) the swings coming his way, before finally throwing himself onto his knees and grabbing onto his weapon. Sadly Darin's poor sense of place had put him in an awkward position. As his eyes moved from the handle of his weapon, they came to look on the rather large shoes that were planted on the ground before him. And Darin knew what they said about men with big shoes.. With a slightly dumbfounded look, Darin found himself looking up at the largest and most menacing Wildman of the bunch, glaring right up into his eyes from his kneeling position.
He needed to say something. Some sort of snappy quip, or comeback.
"Well you're an ugly one, aren't you?!"
That'll do, Darin. That'll do.
Eddie
The battle began with the scales tipped in the savage horde's favor. Their numbers were a fearsome sight, a blob of black and brown that tried to submerge its prey in its immensity. Wolfmen were felled, but not beaten. Some stood up with their wounds jarring blood, their eyes gleaming with insatiable rage and *Hunger*. A militiaman was caught by three barbarians that proceeded to stab and club him to death, followed by instantly kneeling before the dead body and gnawing at the flesh with their fangs. They ripped tissue from the limp frame, making blood spill onto the grass below, drenching green with crimson.

A few meters away, one of the dismounted knights was toppled and weapons bashed against his armor until they made dents and worse, mauling the man as he tried to rise. It was impossible. In the midst of the chaos and carnage, the Duke of the Grey Hills was caught up in some bewildered search for his weapon, which led him straight to the feet of the alpha, a massive sculpture that glared down at him with bright yellow eyes. Tharn Skorn smirked at the witty comment made null by the nonchalance of the receiver.

"*Weakling*." Tharn's voice was toned guttural, prelude to the knee that rose to meet the Duke's face straight on. Careless positioning made him stand at a short range, quite enough for the strike to be launched swift and in a minimal range, high chance of success.
Dale
Darin had a tendency to make bad deductions that had him end up in worse situations. He also had an almost uncanny ability to get out of trouble and turn a loss into an unexpected victory. Yet, there were limits to what the count of the Gray Hills could accomplish. At the comment he received in return, brute and to the point, hitting Darin just where it hurt, he was about to blurt out something along the lines of "I am not a weakling, I've eaten my breakfast porridge from the skulls of men greater than you!", but at "I a-" He was interrupted by a knee surging up to his face. Darin heard his head ring and saw the world spin as he was launched backwards, a prominent ache coming right from his nose- which had the misfortune of taking the brunt of the hit. A slight wetness on his upper lip was investigated, and Darin found himself with a nosebleed, and a metallic taste in his mouth. Sitting up on his ass and feeling quite foolish, Darin used his axe to push himself to his feet again, having found a slight open space in the midst of battle where he could orient himself.

Boasting about his strength just wouldn't do. He'd have to get practical and prove that he was a mighty warrior. After all, Darin had experience with these things. He knew that the fighting spirit in the humblest peasant could be roused at the sight of great deeds and heroism. And right now, there was a distinctive lack of heroism in this battle. The only one who was somewhat managing was Sir Esoch, who pierced some Barbarian's neck with his lance. Darin saw this, and wouldn't let himself be one-upped like that. He was the count. He had to show that he was worthy of this title. Pointing an accusing finger towards the alpha and flashing a slightly crazed grin, Darin shouted " Well let's see who's the weakling between **You** An' **Me**, ya' *Oversized weasel!*" Before tightening his grip on the axe, taking a cautious couple steps towards the opposition. Even Darin himself realised he'd be hard pressed to win this fight.. But limits were made to be broken, and boundaries to be overcome.
Eddie
What was the meaning of such drivel in the mouth of the Duke or count or whatever inbred human title he held? It was all just labels fabricated by men to try and overrule the natural schemes of life and how it should be commanded. The strong would always shepherd the weak, such opposing manners of the Duke couldn't surface and enact a valiant counter attack. His rashness in the sortie was one of the reasons he was in the situation, another being the poor judgment of character that the lord had. He was before a monster and battled him with a puny stick. The alpha cackled a loud and maddened laugh, as if Darin cracked the funniest of jokes. All around him were men falling and being eaten on the spot of their deaths, some still alive when their limbs were chopped off. 

There were those that managed to slip inside the town and sow chaos throughout. They grabbed torches, lit, and threw them into the houses, starting small fires brimming massive. Screams echoed from inside, screams that could distract the humans and break their morale so that the savages could sweep the ground with them and finally begin the first stage of the marvelous feast their leader had planned for them.

Darin had a good head over his shoulders, knowing that a step too deep would have Tharn destroying him. Instead, he was cautious, but Tharn Skorn didn't care. He lunged at Darin, flanking his right, which meant Tharn ran to his left. He tried to bring the duke's attention to his grinning face while his right arm was coming up from waist level to cause mischief, fingers snaking in an attempt to coil the axe's handle and tug, hard.
Rosa
Eravan Nightwing
Northwind Wilderness

"I am terribly sorry to hear that. For what it's worth, I would have stopped this all had I had known this earlier."
Eravan would keep the horse headed to Iron Gate, his face serious and seeming to be haunted. He had been in a similar situation, when a neighboring clan wanted to unite with his clan, so he was destined to marry an older woman when he was 13. That was before the raid.
Bobby
Diana Primrose. 
Northwind 

Diana stared ahead of the path and ignored his statement. No one could've stopped what her parents had been planning. The price her suitor was willing to pay happened to be far to high for negotiation. "We're reaching the village. What do you suppose I do now? Yes, I need clothes. But I'd rather be in my wedding dress than caught by the guards." Diana huffed and stared at the shops coming into the view. As they neared them, Diana positioned herself against the horse and shoved her face against it. The horse continued to steadily carry them down the trail. A soft whimper in fear escaped Diana's lips as she wrapped her arms around the horse, her nerves getting the best of her. "We will get caught and I will never forgive you!" She spat childishly, unaware of exactly where they were headed. Diana's blonde hair remained in front of her face and she found her body shaking. Again, she was ignorant of the sounds of guards going in the opposite direction. "You promised." Diana snapped, not agreeing with the strategy of buying new clothes. Someone was bound to recognize the young beauty, especially because she was in a wedding dress. Despite the fact it was green, she looked like she was upper class. And she had never dressed as such.
Rosa
Eravan Nightwing
Northwind

As if on cue, a guard walked up to them, hand on his sword.
Guard: "Hail, Eravan! What brings you to Iron Gate: business or plea—"
The guard noticed Diana.
Guard: "Hey, isn't that—"
"This is my, uh, wife, friend. She fell off the horse on the way here, and I intend to have her taken care of."
The guard widened his eyes.
Guard: "You sly dog! I never thought you had it in ye! Well, don't let me stop you from your marraige, friend!"
The guard stood to the side, and Eravan urged the horse towards the general store. Eravan dismounted and helped Diana down.
"Sorry about uh..."
Bobby
Diana Primrose
Northwind

Diana smiled slightly as he helped her off of the horse. She scanned the village and stepped closer to Eravan. Silently, she lead the way into the village and clutched the arm of the man helping her. "It is fine. I must act as your bride for the time being, in case he sees us." She wanted to feel safe. She wanted to leave the village and hide. But that wouldn't be possible anytime soon. The wind blew and Diana tucked her hair behind her ears. Everything she saw, she took note of. The pitchforks, the kids laughing, the various general stores. "How did you know the guard?" Her curiosity got the best of her as she turned to Eravan. The blonde locks attached to her head cascaded to her hips and the front of her hair was braided with a piece of cloth weaved through it.