Ronald
**Jarthec the Mayrrif 🌔 Marmot's Cradle**

When he felt like the Ísmóðirian were far enough to speak safely, Jarhtec addessed Herin:

"I cannot stress this enough: there is no place for everyone inside the tunnel. Not even all of your men. This is an escape tunnel first, and an improvised hideout second. Then, and only then, is it a redoubt. We will be cramped inside, and the more people you plan to take inside, the greater the chance we'll be snuffled out and massacred like cattle in a slautherhouse of our own design. Speaking of which... I need a guarantee that **I** Will be one of the people allowed inside. Or else, why would I bother saving you at all? This guarantee will be in the style of Northwind: mutually assured destruction.

I want you to untie me and kill one of the barbarians, they won't notice it amidst this chaos." The mayrrif turned his eyes towards Blóðlaug. "Then, I want you to bring me his nose and ears as proof you did it. Those savages are vindictive bastards, so you and I will be in this together.
Can you provide me that guarantee, Farensun?"

**Marmot's Cradle 🌓 The Night**

While Farensun discussed matters of survival with the vulture, the town took matters of survival into their own hands. They helped rebuild the barricades, and nailed more planks to the windows of their home. Farensun's gambit had vanquished the direwolves, but it had left them few precious oil, and as some inhabitants of Marmot's Cradle noted, it would be sorely needed in the hours to come.

"We must abandon the barricade for now and focus on placing fire traps instead." Said one of the men to Dagstygg. "The scent of blood is going to attract the Fellhounds, and those are like rats: too small and too many to chop appart. Unfortunately, we don't have a lot of oil left. Perhaps we could scuttle one of the ships for wood?"

He pointed at the longishp that had been damaged by the townsguard's fire javelin attack.
Vincent
Dagstygg Jarl
Marmots Cradle

"Aye. My men are knowledgable on building traps. I'll have them build these traps and form three groups to watch these traps."

The Jarl whistles to his men, calling them over as he discusses the plan with them. The very little oil they had will have to do for now, but they were crafty, and even without the traps they'll have their town, they saw to this.
Ronald
**Marmot's Cradle 🌓 The Night**

The villagers were hesitant, but since Dagstygg seemed to be okay with building the traps, they began to scuttle the damaged ship, tearing wooden planks from it's hull.

From beyond the rocky hills, the first omen of the next wave came in the form of distant screeches. Thousands of them, blurred into a ghastly howl by the night wind.

"It's the Fellhounds. They're almost here," Said one of the watchmen. "Everyone! All the bodies that have not been cremated, regardless of who it belonged to, must be thrown outside the walls at once! Hurry!"
Lillian
Herin Farensun
Marmots Cradle

Herin and the Mayrrif now stood in the ruins of the latter's mansion. The charred wood and crumbling stone a testament to the Mayrrif lost power, but within this decaying heap, Herin hoped to find salvation for everyone in this town. 

The entrance to the escape tunnel was thankfully not completely covered, though it took Herin a good deal of effort to move away the bits of rubble that kept it from being opened. Of course, it was still behind the vault, something Herin couldn't exactly move on his own.
"You first." He said, gesturing to the Mayrrif.
Ronald
**Jarthec the Mayrrif 🌓 Marmot's Cradle**

"It's no use." Jarthec shook his head. "The passage is behind the vault, so I still need the key. And I sure won't tell you where it is until you bring me what we discussed earlier."
Vincent
Dagstygg Jarl
Marmots Cradle

He was not impressed to see one of his ships scuttled, but he had enough room on his other four ships to carry the now twenty shipless men as they had traded many of their goods, the Ísmóðirian Einherjar had formed one cental camp in a triangular shape, which would give them eyes on every angle to maintain watch. Every man was ordered into this camp, as they needed every hand they could get
Lillian
Herin Farensun
Marmots Cradle

"Stay here, act like a prisoner, or a vikingr'll be likely to gut you." Herin snapped at the Mayrrif, then ran off towards the breach. Getting him the nose and ears of a vikingr wouldn't be easy... If he planned to do what the old fool said.

Once out of eyesight of the former Mayrrif, Herin began his search for a corpse. It wasn't easy, most of them had been thrown over the barricade, but he found a group of townsfolk in the process of carrying away a vikingr warrior. 
"Stop! I need that for a second!" He demanded, his sword in his hand. 
The townsfolk didn't care much to argue with the masked madman who had blown up one of their houses just minutes ago, and so stepped back while Herin carved the facial features off the poor sod they had been carrying.
"There, do what you will now." He said quickly, returning to his new business partner, Jarthec.

When he returned to the former Mayrrif, still standing in the ruins of his mansion, he tossed the ears and nose on the ground in front of him.
"I don't think anyone saw me, but when they notice the corpse has blade wounds instead of teeth marks, they might start to suspect something, so be quick with the key, eh?"
Ronald
**Jarthec the Mayrrif 🌓 Marmot's Cradle**

"You came back quite fast, eh Farensun?" Said Jarthec "You still have to untie me. That was the deal."
Lillian
Herin Farensun
Marmot's Cradle

In a flash, Herin's sword was at the Mayriff's throat, it's steel blade shimmering in the moonlight, a hair's breath from Jarthec's flesh. 
"Listen here *Jarthec*, the deal was you bring me to this passage, and in return I make sure you survive the night. Anything else was simply wishful thinking on your part. You have exactly two choices, tell me where the key is, or I wait here until the Vikingr find us and sacrifice *Both* Of us to their gods! Mutually assured destruction, remember? I'm prepared to die, Jarthec, are you?"
Ronald
**Jarthec the Mayrrif 🌓 Marmot's Cradle**

"Fool! You speak as if I didn't already have both feet on the grave! I have nothing to lose, but you do! Your crew! Your reputation! Your life! There is nothing you can treaten me with!" Spat the Mayrrif. "You are prepared to die? Well I'm already dead! If you want favours from a dead man, you ought to step into the grave with him."

He tucked the body parts Herin had given him parts into his cape.

"Let's start over. These are my terms: untie me, and bring me the head of a barbarian. And I don't want it from a stinky corpse! I want... His..."

Jarthec directed Herin's gaze towards Blóðlaug.
Lillian
Herin Farensun
Marmot's Cradle

Herin stood in silence for a moment, eyes locked with the Mayriff, then put his sword down.
"Black depths, how did *You* Manage to run a village for so long?" 
Herin stepped back, putting his sword in it's sheathe. His body relaxing, he almost seemed happy, though his tone still carried a dangerous edge.
"I don't need your tunnel, Jarthec. I don't need anything from you, I came here to end our dealings in the first place! You never understood *Mayriff*" Herin spat the title, like it was a insult, rather than a name. "I'm already dead, all the raiders are. We stepped into the noose the second we raised our flags, everything after that is just borrowed time. If I meet my end in your backwater, then I'll die a free man, with no regrets. But you? You'll die bound like a pig, in the ashes of your dignity."

Herin swung his fist into Jarthec's face, hard enough to knock the man to the ground. Herin kneeled next to the Mayriff, taking his ropes and hogtying the man, his face still in the ashes of the mansion.
"See you in the morning Jarthec." He said, a cruel smile on his face under the mask.

Walking away from the man, he returned to the field of battle, watching as the townsfolk began to set up traps alongside the Vikngr and his Raiders.
Vincent
Blóðlaug
Marmots Cradle

The terrifyingly large woman was seen tearing the liver from one of the dead direwolves with her bare hand and eating it raw, she had furious, piercing ice blue eyes that were accentuated by the blood soaked on her face

She would get up and follow Herin, swallowing the rest of the liver before speaking 

"What was that all about?"
Lillian
Herin Farensun
Marmots Cradle

"Nothing." Herin said simply, returning to his men, their crossbows aimed at the barricade, ready to fire on whatever beast came through next. For his part, Herin wondered if he should have taken the Mayriff's deal. Then again, Jarthec would probably have betrayed him no matter what, so perhaps it all worked out for the best.

"Live free, die young, enjoy every second." He muttered under his breath, listening to the encroaching howls of the fellhounds. He made a promise to himself that if they started to fall, he'd make sure the beasts ate the Mayriff first.
Ronald
**Marmot's Cradle 🌒 The Night**

"Shit, they're coming! Leave the bodies, run inside! Hide in the buildings!"

The townspeople began to abandon their posts and run into their homes. They urged the other defenders to do the same. But they had accounted for time... Poorly. A deluge of beasts flooded the breaches. Hundreds upon hundreds of ravenous animals poured trough the openings, screeching like a tide of rats coming into a sewer. 
The Fellhounds grossly ressembled dogs, if dogs were small, hairless, horrific, eyeless creatures. Truth be told, were it not for their appearence, Herin could've swore they behaved more like oversized rats than canines.They fell over the defenders dozens an time, gnawing savagely at every exposed piece of skin like Islander pirahas, and leaving nothing but bones and empty armor in their wake. 
Blades and bolts slaughtered them in droves, but they could not halt the endless tide of carnivorous vermin. And the worst was yet to come: most of the Fellhounds were still beyond the palisade, feasting on the corpses that the defenders had thrown outside.

Amidst the chaos, one of the townsmen tried to organize a defense: "Shit! The traps! The traps! Set the fires!"

It was the last thing he shouted before being devoured.
Vincent
Dagstygg Jarl
Marmots Cradle

"Hold! Now!"

The men had dug in massive moats along the walls that were filled with oil and wood, as beasts poured into it the archers would fire a flaming arrow into the pit, a whistling flame would roar as they were englufed in flame almost immediately
Lillian
Herin Farensun
Marmots Cradle

"ARCHERS! LIGHT YOUR BOLTS AND FIRE!" Herin roared to his men.
As the swarming mass of fellhounds gathered outside, devouring the bodies dumped to distract them, Herin's archers took advantage of their huddled formation. 

Dipping their arrows in oil, then lighting them with torches, their projectiles were turned into bolts of fire, and aimed towards at the seething mass of hellhounds that feasted on the bodies outside the barricade.
Herin had ordered his men to try and overshoot the mass by a small margin, creating a line of fire behind them. This would give the fellhounds two options. Either stay still and be easy targets for a second volley, or charge directly into the fire pit Dagstygg's men had dug.
Ronald
**Marmot's Cradle 🌒 The Night**

Several thousand Fellhounds were trapped between the walls of fire, and hundreds upon hundreds fell to a fiery death as they plunged towards Dagstygg's flaming pits. But they were too many, and the traps became clogged under the sheer amount of bodies that fell for them. Besides, Herin had made a mistake: by ordering to shoot the arrows so close to the palisade, he had caused the wooden cabers to catch fire. The wall was now ablaze.

This had a surpisingly strong effect on the Fellhounds, for the foul creatures were terrified of the light: they recoiled in fear, away from the heat of the flames and into darkness. Herin's arrows may have doomed the palisade, but they had bought the defenders precious time.

"Everybody inside the buildings!" The villagers shouted.
Vincent
Dagstygg Jarl
Marmots Cradle

"Gods damn us! We find Jarthec and we sacrifice him, now! Herin. Where did you leave the god's meat?"
Lillian
Herin Farensun
Marmots Cradle

Herin wasn't listening to the Vikingr Jarl, he was too busy taking charge of the defenders.
"Archers! I want a two of you to every house, get on the roof if you have to, I want you in every vantage point! Anyone with a sword or axe, help barricade the doors, make sure nothing gets in!"

Herin made his way to the largest house still standing, taking with him a personal guard of his own men, as well as 4 archers. If everyone obeyed his orders, they could turn the streets of the town into a deathtrap for whatever came past the fire. So long as the warriors managed to keep anything from getting inside, the archers could pepper the streets with arrows free of harm.
Ronald
Clayton
Marmot's Cradle

It was now or never. The invaders were too busy fighting for their lives. Clayton was the last thing they had on their minds. While the archers where setting the walls on fire, he sneaked across the plaza towards the ruins of the Town Hall and rushed towards the vault. He knew of the passage. Being the sole member of the Mayrrif's inner circle had it's benefits.
But hope soon turned into despair when he found out that the vault had a key. No. Nononono. But of course. Of course the vault had a key. And because it was where the Mayrrif hoarded his gold, he had kept the key a secret even from Clayton.
The old veteran fell to his knees. After so many years, he would die devoured by Fellhoounds. Like the scum of Northwind. His life had been in vain. He began to weep.

"Eeughkgh."

The sound of a dying animal brought him back to his senses. An animal? Where? Clayton turned back towards the ruins of the Mansion's atruim, and lo and behold, miracle of miracles... It was Jarthec. He ran as fast as he could towads his former boss and crouched so he could hear what he was trying to say.

"Key... Gretha..."

_
_
The girl! Jarthec had hid the key with his slave! Clayton ran trough the crumbling stairs towards what remained of the attic. A charred body hung over the atrium like a macabre candelabrum. And hanging from it's neck... A large, old, rusted key. The old veteran used his sword to separate the head from the calcinated body, making the key pendant fall to ground. He leaped from his vantage point and seized it with joy and desperation, then ran to the vault.

But he stopped. Jarthec was still laying on the ground. Was it okay to leave him there? He'd never fully agreed with the way he had run the town and even resented the way he treated him, but the man had favored him, and he had saved his life.

Against his better judgement, Clayton returned for the vulture. He cut his ties and threw an arm over his shoulder before carrying him towards the vault. As Clayton sealed the iron gate from the inside, the vulture let out a wicked cackle. Once again, Clayton couldn't help but wonder if he had truly made the right choice.

**Marmot's Cradle 🌒 The Night**

Herin's strategy proved effective in keeping the archers safe, but it did little to cull the endless horde. Every arrow scored a hit, but the archers were running low on ammunition, and the Fellhounds kept coming. Failing to climb to the rooftops, the creatures began to attack the doors and windows of the houses, ocassionally breaking the wooden planks nailed to the frames by the villagers, and devouring everyone inside. Worse still, once the Fellhounds manged to break into a buildings, they could use the stairs and furniture to reach it's rooftop.
The fall of the first two houses cost the lives of four archers, but the third one held fast: the Vikingr inside managed to slay the Fellhounds and plug the breach before more creatures made their way inside.

"We need more fire! But there is almost no oil left! We have to burn houses! Only fires of that size will chase away those nightmares for good!"

It meant sentencing more people, and perhaps some archers, to a fiery death.
Vincent
Blóðlaug
Marmots Cradle

Hearing her Jarl's rage she had decided to try and find this man for herself. She was fuming, she knew it was a terrible idea to move him. As she returned to the ruins she was greeted by the sight of Clayton and Jarthec, which sent her into a rage as she watched them on their way out. A roar of fury burst from her lungs as she hurled a throwing axe in Claytons direction before charging towards them
Lillian
Herin Farensun
Marmots Cradle

Herin thought fast, then yelled out to the archers.
"Target the two empty houses! Burn them!"

The archers fired, and the two houses went up in twin pillars of flame. Since they were in the direction the fellhounds were coming from, the fires would keep any more of the beasts from getting close, and allow for the defenders to easily mop up the fellhounds trapped on the other side of the flames
Ronald
Clayton
The Vault of the mansion

It was pitch dark inside the vault. Not a second after he'd pulled the key from the door, the wrath of the night crashed against it. Or was it the wrath of something else?

"CLANG! Clang!" Two objects crashed against the door with savage fury. The first had wight, it must've been a hammer. Then something big, like an enraged animal, began to bang against the metal door.

"What is that?" Asked Clayton.

"Ignore it." Said Jarthec. "It must be the monsters. You just search for the lantern. I keep it in one of the corners to count the gold at night."

The thing outside kept hitting the door. It wasn't an animal. Was it a human?

"Maybe I should open it and slay the beast."

"Don't!" Replied Jarthec. "This is where I keep my gold, trust me whn I say I've made damn sure nothing can breach this vault. Just.. Don't open the door."

Clayton seached for the lantern. As Jarthec had said, it was in one of the corners. Lighting it up, it turned out to be a gold lantern.
The entire vault was filled with gold. Gold worth the entirety of Marmot's Cradle many times over.

"We will have to leave this gold here," Explained the vulture. He sounded devastated to pronounce those words. "But there is no other way. You must seal the door of the secret passage on your way out so the gold remains safe. We will return for it someday."

Clayton opened the secret passage and the vulture got inside. He regretted not being able to take some of the gold with them, but it would only weight them down. Besides, as long as he had the key, they could always return for it. The loud banging was still going in full force, but after he locked the second door the sound became muffled. Jarthec took the time to utter some dramatic words:

"Look back, Clayton. Always look back. Our part in this scene may have come to an end, but our role in this play is far from over."

The men dissapeared in the depths of the tunnel.

**Marmot's Cradle 🌒 The Night**

When the houses lighted up, the Fellhounds retreated. They ran away from the light with desperation, clearing the streets and even jumping into the river. It was an astounding success: the vermintide was routed far beyond the broken palisade.

The people cheered. Some even went outside the houses and jumped, euphoric to be alive. But the wary among them were reluctant to celebrate so prematurely. Unlike the Direwolves, the assault of the Fellhounds had left far more dead than wounded, and the archers had spent most of their ammunition. Exhaustion had begun to take it's toil on the defenders, and it was barely an hour past midnight.

It was time to regroup, lick wounds, and prepare anew.
Vincent
Blóðlaug
Marmots cradle

The woman would walk up to Herin calmly, clenching her fists slightly however.
"Herin. Do you notice anything... Missing? Anything at all?"
Lillian
Herin Farensun
Marmots Cradle

Herin looked at the large woman, then sighed.
"Now? Really? If you want to complain, then do it later, once we're out of this mess. But right now, get out of my way and let me save us from these monsters!"

Herin turned, then walked back towards his men, preparing their strategy in his head. 
They were almost out of arrows, which meant they would have to change tactics. Hopefully they wouldn't face another enemy like the fellhounds, something that could be dealt with using swords and steel instead of arrows.
Vincent
Dagstygg Jarl
Marmots Cradle

"The thing I remained here for is now gone, and the town is destroyed. What little oil we have left will be strapped to the Mayriff's boat and used to blow a hole in that rock pile, we leave now."

*The Jarl turns to the villagers, he was angry but hid it well.*

"Hear me, you miserable creatures! Your life would have been awful here with, or without me. Death would befall you at any time, with, or without me! I give you a choice, dawn is soon upon us and the ships of the Blood Maiden Kolga will be coming over the waves! I offer you the chance to come with us, and build a new settlement under the rule of a far fairer individual, in a far more hospitable land! All you who take my offer raise your left hand! All those who do not, be silent!"
Lillian
Herin Farensun
Marmots Cradle

Herin looked at the Jarl, shaking his head. This man was a good fighter, but he was woefully out of his depth as a leader.
"Jarl, you can't do that. You try to move the oil onto a boat, and you'll have to go past the barricade. Whatever is waiting out there will tear you to pieces before you can even get the barrels loaded."

Herin then pointed to the hatch which the Mayrrif had escaped through.
"Besides, the Mayrrif isn't gone, he's just hiding behind that door. He can't afford to leave that tunnel during the night, and come morning he won't expect us to still be here. After your sister arrives and we've dealt with the beasts, we'll pry open that door and wrench him out."
Vincent
Dagstygg Jarl
Marmots Cradle

"Very well. Prepare your men. Dawn is nearly upon us, but the night is not yet over. This time we make sure we're at full strength, I'm starting to get fucking mad..." 

*He growls and drags the alpha direwolf off to the camp to be skinned, he wanted a fine fur cloak*
Ronald
**Marmot's Cradle 🌑 The Night**

The defenders stood watch for several minutes, but nothing came, despite the ruined state of the palisade. It was as if even Northwind itself wanted to stay away from that accursed town. The anxiety was almost as worse as the danger, and many men began to feel uneasy. Some were even convinced they were being watched.

"Nothing but a dying direwolf here," Said one of the sentinels. "There are still some damned Fellhounds hiding in the dark corners of houses, we should go clear those."

The sentiel turned and realized he was speaking to himself, even though his partner had been right beside him a moment ago. And he was not the only one. Slowly but surely, similar scenes repeated themselves across town: one of the Vikingr came back to find a brave warrior had uncharacteristically deserted his post, an archer suddenly found himself alone in a rooftop, villagers couldn't find the people they had entrusted with repair tasks...

All over Marmot's Cradle, people were missing...
Lillian
Herin Farensun
Marmots Cradle

The disappearances had been brought to Herin's attention. Clearly something was attacking them, something they couldn't see. 
"EVERYONE IN THE HOUSES!" Herin ordered, his men and the Jarl's teaming into the buildings. Whatever this thing was, cramped spaces would hamper it if it needed to move fast. 
Herin and his men entered the largest building, alongside a few of the Vikingr warriors. Whatever came for them, Herin knew he'd be prepared.
Ronald
**Marmot's Cradle 🌑 The Night**

But he was not prepared. Not for what he found inside.

The building had been tranformed into a charnel house. The bodies of missing villagers, Vikingr, and Hanged Men alike were all there: pierced, chewed, bisected... Impaled to the roof and walls with the splinters of their own bones. The halls were splattered with blood, but the bodies had none. It had been sucked out of them, leaving the corpses pale and withered. And the stench was noxious. Some enfeebled villagers even vomited when Herin opened the door, and the putrid air came out.

The... Thing had hid the bodies on purpose. It had not expected the humans to seek refuge in it's new lair, but it had been clever enough to know that it could not leave the bodies out in the open. It was a hunter, and it understood it's prey.

"It's evil!" Shouted a villager "The Mayrrif's sorcery! His ghost is haunting this town! We abandoned our dead to the Fellhounds, and now the gods have abandoned us! We should've given them a proper burial!"

Others were more concerned about Farensun's orders:

"No way I'm going there," Said one of the villagers. "If I'm going to die, it won't be in the dark, struggling to breathe. Stalked by some undead abomination."
Lillian
Herin Farensun
Marmot's Cradle

Herin almost vomited himself, but within the confines of his mask, that would be a bad idea. The people were terrified, if he didn't do something fast, they would panic, and that would be the end of them all.
"SILENCE!" He roared, using his most commanding voice. He still had his Hanged Raiders thankfully, and they made sure that everyone was standing at attention when he spoke.

"Look at yourselves! It wants this! If we stay out here, we'll be picked off one by one, dead before the sun rises! Whatever this thing is, it made it's lair here to scare us out because it *Knows* If we stay together it can't do anything!"
Herin drew his sword, pointing it towards the charnel house that was the lair of the beast. 
"People of the Cradle, you have had a hard night, you have watched your friends, your family, die to monsters out of a nightmare, you have every right to be terrified" 

Herin looked over the crowd, there were more hanged raiders and Vikingr than there were townsfolk at this point, as Herin had hoped. He had given his men orders to use the villagers as shields, let them die in their place when possible, and that strategy had paid off. 
"However, if you do not follow my orders now, then whatever nightmare stalks us now will seem like a pleasant dream compared to what I will do."

Herin watched the townspeople, some of them seemed angry, some scared, but most simply looked defeated. They were a people with nothing left, even if they survived, their homes were destroyed, their families slaughtered. All they had left was a will to survive, and that motivation drove them into the blood-soaked halls of the manor.
Vincent
Dagstygg Jarl
Marmots Cradle

"We go now, outside and face the creature. My men have been wounded worse by better..." 

Dagstygg orders his men into a defensive shield wall circle with spears pointing outward, one simple order would call them to this formation, "Skjöldveggur!". They stomp and shout "Hough!" To signal a completed shield wall layer as they shove the spears outward inbetween the gaps in the shields, layer by layer they form up until they are nothing but a massive dome of shields and weapons.

"Anything that touches those fucking shields, stab it!"