((Sorry for the first wall. Rest won't be this much, but I found it a bit necessary for me to come into it.))<br/><br/>Haithan disliked riding. He disliked the bumpy ungraceful step of the animal, and even more so, he loathed the traditional steed of the empire. In Naggaroth the dark steeds were breed to be one with their master. An elegant, more sophisticated steed for a more sophisticated people. Eight years and he still wasn't used to the bloody beasts called horses.<br/><br/>Eight long years. By now he had found some relish in his life and he would indeed say that it could've been worse, but it was not out to say that there were certain things that he missed. He missed the salty smell of the sea. The moaning of slaves and the combination of piss, sweat, vomit and blood that reeked from them. He missed waking up at the hour of the wolf, still intoxicated with wine. To set out for a season along the shores of Bretonnia, only to return and watching the harpies of Klarond Kar pick of the offered slaves, granting them with great fortune. He missed scheming, plotting, decieving. He missed carnage, blood, warfare. He missed sitting down and count the loot. He missed picking of nails, one at a time from already used slaves with his comrades. He missed walking down bellow deck and take a piss on the traitor kin of Ulthuan. He missed being a Druchii in its most profound and simple form.<br/><br/>With a jerk of his reins he steered the horse eastwards, seeing the end of the thick pine forest. He had been riding through this growth for almost a week now, in hopes of finding this supposed village his last entourage had spoken off.<br/>"They are allways in need of a hand", the merchant had said. Appearantly there was good coin. If the settlement was large enough, maybe even a brothel. Having learned early to not be picky with what he bedded, Haithan had come to terms as soon as he reached the old worlds that the human cunt worked just as well as the druchii one, but he had never gone around the prospect of paying the whore in question for a lay. Apperantly it was treated as some sort of customer service. Pecculiar, but then again, humans didn't have slavery or ownership to begin with. If truth had it, oath bound retainers were even not that common.<br/><br/>Suddenly however there was a tinge in the air and the familiar sound of clattering steel. The coppery reek of blood lay on the wind and from afar he could hear make out the combat. He spurred his mount on, and sure enough, as soon as he became free of the forest he could see the village in the distance, the front gate facing away from him. There seemed to be norsemen, and quite the plenty of them. For a split second he wondered if he might just remain away from the place, watching from a safe distance. Were the place to fall, he could allways turn around and head the other way. He might bump into some goblins again, sure, but the last time they had realised who and what he was they had been running away with arms flailing, screaming something he strongly suspected to be: "Elf-creature, pointy eared elf-creature!".<br/>Elf...Such a patronising word. But what could one expect from savages.<br/><br/>Drifting back to current matters, Haithan decided that he would approach the settlement, but from the rear. He could sneak in the backdoor, survey the situation, and if it was dire, just do some post-destruction pillaging and leave before the ravening horde got further into town.<br/>Deciding once again that he was genius manifest, he spurred his mount on in a easy galoop.<br/>________________________<br/><br/>Several moments passed, finally reaching the edge of the wooden wall there was not a soul to meet him. The village was small, and where he to not keep as close to the wall as he was, the marauders would sure as sure see him. Question was if they werent too caught up in their own assault to notice what was happening on the other end.<br/>He searched for a while for a back door, but found none, and eventually came to terms with that the only way to get in was to climb. Said and done, he searched his bags for a grapplehook at the end of a long rope, and soon enough he was well underway climbing the woodwork.<br/><br/>Jump over the edge, sneek across the ledge, get down in the village. Now how was it looking?<br/>Dissaray was the right word. People ran left and right, elderly people were taken care of by less elderly people and they in turn were taken care by middle aged people.<br/><br/>Haithan did not go unnoticed though and one of the men barring his doors looked to him. "Good sir, you must help the protectors! Why are you not with your commander?!"<br/>The insolence of these people. His commander? Where they assuming he had been here all along?<br/>No he would remain here aback, and would any one try to push him into the fray he would cut them down as soon as they broke swords lenght.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>