Talianna's ears twitched, a warm tang of copper on her tongue. She was still sat at the foot of the bed when she felt the air of battle wash over her. She had been in countless battles, many with Northern raiders who harrowed the Corsair ships and she could tell when slaughter had occured. The quiet, subtle thumps of steel into wet flesh, the scent in the air; warm, desperate copper. But most of all she could feel the pain: brutal, unrefined and final. Her mind raced, the dull sound of a hammer in flesh made her body shake. Hammers were heavy, powerful and unwieldy, something the Norse adored, and if hammers were close by, that means that the Kurgan body must be close by. She bit her lip, a tinge of fear inking her heart. If even a Kurgan tribe had come, only with the Dark Mother's luck and protection would Talianna have the slightest chance of living with all her limbs. She prayed to the Dark Mother it was merely small warbands who rode near to the host, who picked at the carcasses of villages who Host had either destroyed or were so small the Host didn't bother.<br/><br/>She slammed open the door, her robe billowing as she padded across the room, drawing Hatetongue. The blade hissed like a serpant from its scabard, the small runes of the blade whispering as they too tasted the blood on the wind.<br/>"Bianka! Move you fat hide and ready your weapon!" Talianna bellowed, her voice seasoned with shouting at Corsairs in the midsts of the harshest storms of the Sea of Chill, "Fetch my Nauglir and open the gates, Dark Mother help me I will flay you alive if you stand there a moment longer!" she shouted, her voice almost a scream of fury as she felt the warm fires of hate explode inside her.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>