<span style="font-size: 18px">THE HEART OF DARKNESS</span><br/><br/>The weather the next morning was good by the standards of the Storm Peaks, which meant it was bleak by the standards of anywhere south of Northrend. It was one of those rare times when the perpetual storms moved into the higher airways above the mountain peaks, granting some semblance of calm to the world below. The wind died down, ceasing its lamenting song through the frozen crevices of the peaks, and the light was white and cold as it streamed in the windows of the Blue Drake. The air outside was so cold in the early hours that even the Hyldnir sentinels took shelter in their guardposts, the streets outside the Blue drake lying silent and abandoned as the people of Brunhildr village and their visitors sought refuge indoors untill the warmer noon hours.<br/><br/>Inside, the overnight tennants of the Blue Drake were roused by the Maidservants, and in Grizel's case poked apprehensively untill he stirred, to the comfortable warmth of a good fire and the smell of breakfast wafting out from he kitchen. As the party was called to the morning meal, they found themselves almost alone in the main room of the inn, the rest of the tennants having ignored the summons and decided to sleep off the revels of the last night. Despite the lack of activity, Oglaf seemed in a fine mood, apparently happy to have anything to do. How the massive innkeeper managed to be so energetic and positive at such an early hour was a mystery, considering he had been putting away ale with the best of them, and often in kegs compared to the mugs of his drinking partners.<br/><br/>Even so, the mighty Vrykul enthusiasticly covered his guests' plates with a veritable mountain of sausage, dark bread and eggs in various states of mutilation. Having suplied his guests with enough food to feed an orcish batallion, to "put some meat on you skinny smallings" as he put it, Oglaf proved himself surprisingly talkative this morning, regaling his visitors with tales of his illustrous youth as a Vrykul bersker as they ate, tales that often included good-humoured descriptions of violent dismemberment and carnage. It would be difficult to determine wether the innkeeper was having a laugh at his tennants expense, or simply trying to be a good host in vrykul fashion. After the party endured the enormous breakfast, Oglaf provided them with a "small snack", translating to enough food to last the rest of the day, as well as flasks of heated brandy to sip against the cold, finally sending them on their way towards the eastern gates of the village.<br/><br/>The eastern gate was in truth a misnomer, as the Hyldnir had never actually built proper fortifications on the eastern side of the village. Such structures would have been little use against the frost giants with whom the warrior-women had fought in the past, nor would the animals of the valley of Ancient Vinters ever dare close enough to the village to pose any threat. The "gate" was a simple picket line of torches and sharpened stakes, watched over by sentries in case of unexpected trouble. In truth, there was little need for walls and ramparts even should an army emerge from the valley somehow. The village's protodrake stables were situated almost right next to the eastern town limits, and anyone who dared entry uninvited would be beset by a pack of the large, hungry lizards.<br/><br/>Sitting on low fence their guide awaited them. Astrid Einherjsdottar did not have the heavy set, muscled build of most of the Hyldnir warriors, instead she was lean and slim, her body toned and athletic. Her poise was relaxed as she sat, carving a small piece of wood with a bone-handled dagger, yet there was an air of tension about her, like a coiled spring, ready to unleash devastating force at a moments notice. The huntress was clad in a functional leather jerkin, a heavy yeti-fur coat draped over her slender shoulders against the cold, with matching boots and tight-fitting hide leggings. She wore no helmet, her long deep-blue hair tied into a neat braid that fell halfways down her back, tied off with a simple strip of leather. Her fine-boned, slender features still had the fine soothness of youth, but there was something about her bearing and the look in her steel-blue eyes that showed that she had seen far too much to be considered a child.<br/><br/>"You are the ones the elders sent."<br/><br/>It was a statement more than a question. The huntress voice was cool and level, betraying little emotion, be it for or against her charges.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>