Leofric had enjoyed the raid. He liked fighting and more importantly, he liked the plunder that came with victory. Aelle was a fine chieftain, a good leader in battle, a ring giver and a staunch fighter. But there was something missing, Leofric had decided, and that was ruthlessness. He was a strong man, harsh and dangerous, but he was soft. He had not even beaten the slave girl properly, from what the other servants, just struck her once and let everyone think he had beaten her like she deserved. And she needed to be broken, he thought, as he lowered himself into a tub of hot water, cleaning off the muck of the voyage. He remembered Saria’s attempt to escape during the chaos and carrying her back, struggling, and it had given him a chance to enjoy the feeling as she struggled against him. He could not deny that he had enjoyed it and as he relaxed, his mind drifted back to it and his face relaxed into a smile as he relived that moment.

It was a luxurious thing, the bath, and he enjoyed every moment. Unlike Aelle, Leofric prided himself on his appearance and once the water had cooled, he stepped out onto the pine boards of the floor and stood in front of a mirror. It was an expensive piece, the mirror, as there were so few of them in the North and so few made as well as this one, but Leofric did not mind the expense. Instead, as he stood in front of it and ran a comb through his dark, messy hair, drying slowly in the open air. He heard a noise at the door to his chamber in Aelle’s hall and turned to find Saria there with fresh clothes for him.

“Close the door,” he ordered firmly and, with her eyes wide with fear, she complied. “Now put the clothes on the bed,” he said as he looked her over from top to bottom. She was a lovely girl, he thought, young and ripe and ready to be given an education on a woman’s proper role in the world, especially since it appeared that Aelle was incapable of giving her such a lesson. “Now come over here,” he said sharply and took a step toward her as well, closing the distance as she timidly approached her. “You are a lucky woman, Saria,” he purred when she was just in front of him. “Not many women are so beautiful as you and are wanted by a man like me rather than some ale-sodden bag of wind.” He smiled, a charming smile, and spread his arms as an invitation to look at his body, hardened by years at the oars and in the shield wall.

He took her hand in his and smiled as he pulled it toward him and closed her fingers around him and gently moved her hand along his length. “I don’t think you really know how lucky you are, Saria, not at all. You’ll be able to experience something that women beg for, and I will be able to teach you something that women all over this fort can attest is the best in the North. Now, are you ready… Oh, you’re a slave, so of course you are, since I am.” He backed her up until her back was against the oak paneled wall, pressing his arm against her throat so she could not struggle or scream. She made a soft noise of panic but was still and Leofric grinned. She was going to be so sweet, he thought, and pressed his arm harder while he struggled to pull the hem of her skirt up. She struggled a little but his arm was sufficient to calm her. As he hiked the skirts up, he leaned in, kissing her roughly, even as she tried to evade him.

“Saria! Saria!”

Aelle’s voice echoed through the corridors of the hall and Saria stirred when she heard it. Leofric pressed harder as he struggled to get her skirts up. “Saria, there’s a woman coming soon and I need the tables set! Get your arse out here!” Leofric twisted his head to better hear Aelle and Saria raked her foot down his shin. Leofric hissed and stepped back, off balance, and Saraia ran for the door with Leofric staggering after her. He tried to grab her and pulled her off balance so she staggered into the tub of cold water. Sputtering, he pulled herself out of the tub and ran out of the room toward Aelle and the main hall. Leofric, cursing, dressed himself quickly, and followed her to Aelle.

Aelle, sitting in his carved chair with his hound at his feet, looked surprised when Saria came into the room. “Why in the name of the Maker are you soaking wet? No matter. Get to the kitchen, fetch bread and cheese and ale for our guest and the good plate from my chest, and set the table, and quickly now. We need to look prosperous and able to pay this woman’s prices.” He paused a moment and looked at her more closely and saw the worry in her eyes. “And… are you… alright, Saria? You seem off…”

The path she was on was oddly quiet, as if a large majority of the people in the area were displaced or not home, but Rixxan wasn’t as bothered by that as she was but the unfriendly chill of the air. Places that were nearly devoid of magic always seemed to be cold, even if it were not cold, something was always missing from the air, and the easiest way for Rixxan to explain what it was was to simply say it was cold. Having found a quick escape out of her on-going affair with that so-called assassin she had the displeasure of running into time and time again, Rixxan had gone as far North as possible to sell some goods and also hopefully not run into that character for a while. Rixxan tugged her hood back up over her ears, the wind having swept it off. This area of the North was particularly unfriendly toward magic-users and her kind, and if she were to make much money selling items of value she would have to make her race be as unknown as possible to the people around the port she was heading to. Not only did these people not practice magic, they considerably looked down upon those who did and had a serious distrust of magic-types, namely elves. 

Rixxan sat astride a steed she’d procured from the last city, after a very quick hustle in a tavern. The beast was a dark, nearly black color, with a thick enough coat to survive some of the coldest winters around. Being a wood elf and all the other magical things she was, she probably looked even more odd considering the fact that the steed wore no tack or equipment save for her satchels of valuables slung over the sides of its rump. It seemed unnecessary to waste money on that sort of thing when there would be no real reason, elves, usually, were able to communicate very easily with the other creatures of the world, so why invest into pieces of useless leather simply to do that less efficiently? The port area was busier than the road into town, at least. There were plenty of people doing business and trading and clearly too enthralled in their own lives and nonsense to be bothered by her. Her horse walked easily past groups of people trading, women chattering away and gossiping, to a more private area, where she dismounted and looped a soft rope over her steed’s muzzle and tied him by the other beasts of the market-goers. She adjusted her ever-falling hood and started out into the shopping area. As usual, nothing really caught her eye, but something did catch her ear.

“We can’t return without having found some sort of ward for Lord Aelle, where are we going to look?”  “I’ve no idea, you’d think for the amount we dislike magic we would have more things around to keep magic out!” Rixxan stopped mid-step and turned. Two men were squabbling with each other, clearly servants to this ‘Lord Aelle’. In the midst of their talkings, Rixxan interjected. “Gentlemen, did you say you are in need of magic wards? Might I ask against whom?” She raised an eyebrow, and her cold tone stopped them both dead. One of them shook his head at the other, and the other stuttered a few words. “T-t-there’s this witch, you see, she’s a thrall at the hall and, she’s got this fire,” the man started, and Rixxan raised her hand. “Say no more, I have what your master needs,” Rixxan removed her hood, uncovering her elven ears, and one of the men went to say something but the other elbowed him in the ribs to stop him, “Now, if you would provide me the location of your hall, it would be best of you to return there and inform your master that I will be arriving shortly. Now go.” Rixxan didn’t need to know the location, though. She would simply track them down. The men nodded, gave her terribly crude directions, and started very quickly away from her. Rixxan smiled and put her hood back up, knowing this was a fortunate turn of events. She had exactly the thing to sell to this ‘Lord Aelle,’ and for quite a price. After procuring a snack and the object from her horse’s satchels, Rixxan made her way to the edge of the merchant area of town, crept behind a building, and changed into her usual form for transportation, her blonde wolf form. She still couldn’t figure out the coloring on it, so it always ended up looking the color her hair was as a humanoid, but that really did not matter. Making sure not to be seen by any of these Northerners, she picked up the scent of the servants and trotted off in the direction they’d gone. The hall was a modest one, not terribly large but not quite so terribly small. Rixxan hadn’t needed the scent of the servants for long, as she picked up the scent of a magic-user halfway along the way and had followed that for a more direct route, as the servants seemed to have been staggering or possibly just wasting time. Either way, Rixxan arrived at the hall and chose to do as she usually did, and make an entrance. She returned to her humanoid visage and looked up at the large doors, and noticed the shadow overhanging them that happened to creep under the door. Thanks to her darker side of magic, she was able to meld into the shadow and find her way inside without having to open the door. The large dog inside had clearly heard her and was ready to greet her, and having been an elf there was never any true threat of ‘guard dogs’ or such. The large dog, though it seemed to be a brute, simply barked once at her as she emerged from the shadow of the door. She raised her eyebrow at it and it fell silent.For showmanship purposes, Rixxan removed her cloak, casting it into the ether and summoning her large sword from the ether, into its rightful place, strapped across her back as it was far too big to be held in a regular sheath. All of this came with a rightful puff of black smoke, as she was known for. Obviously, these northerners had a bigger respect for fighting and brute strength than magic, but she had all of that covered–a brilliant broadsword larger than herself, and the fact that she was an elf who might have delved a little too far into the darker side of magic. “What a quaint hall! Not similar at all to those of my own people, but it’s rustic in its charm and nature…” She observed the structure of the building quickly, but found herself quickly bored with the human creations, and crossed her arms, looking around as if she were going to pose a thoughtful question to herself, “Now I hear you have a bit of a magic problem? I can definitely be of service with that.” For embellishment, she produced one of her own fireballs - a black, shadow of hissing fire and sparks - and winked at the large man who was clearly the Lord of this domain. She started towards the large table where he sat, and sat down at the other end directly across from him. “Now tell me, exactly what kind of magic are you having a problem with?” Rixxan’s eyes wandered to the side of the room, heavy of magic scent in a place where there was no magic, where a younger girl, close to her own age, stood. Adjacent to the largest man in the room, there sat a slightly smaller man, most likely his second in command, yet the man seemed to be glancing at the younger girl on the side of the room. Rixxan rasied an eyebrow and nodded toward her, making eye contact with the master of the hall. “That’s the so-called witch, huh? She stinks of it. Human though, that’s strange for sure. Anyway, what kinds of trouble is this one giving you? Trying to burn the hall down, making things levitate, freezing over rivers, disappearing and reappearing? Whatever it is, I’m sure we can get it under control.” She smirked, crossing her arms again and winking at the girl, who no doubt did not like her at this point. Either way, it didn’t matter, she was going to make a sale and make some money off these people.

Aelle waited, chewing his lip in confusion, as Saria left to prepare the room. He stretched his back in the chair, noting for the thousandth time that, while it made him look like a proper lord, it was wreaking havoc on his back. His hound barked a moment and he looked at it, confused, but the beast promptly settled back at his feet. “Now why, do you think,” he murmured, mostly to himself, “would she be wet? Head to toe, even, like she’d taken a bath. Maker only knows, I guess. No matter, so long as she does her job and doesn’t catch her death…” He stopped suddenly when he felt something strange in the hall, something he could not place but that worried him. He reached beside his seat and grabbed the haft of his war axe and began to stand when a puff of smoke appeared in the corner of his hall near the door. “Bloody magic,” he growled as Leofric arrived behind him and made to draw his sword.

The woman was clearly not a Northerner, and from her ears, was probably an elf. Like most Northmen, Aelle had very little use for magic but this was no ordinary fire eater or peddler, and she was clearly more powerful than Saria. So instead of charging her and risking his fate, he stood his ground while she spoke. “Aye, we are a simple folk up here, miss, and we are not usually so welcoming of strangers, but it seems you have the advantage. You know I have magic that needs a little taming and I haven’t got a clue who in the Maker’s bollocks you are.” He relaxed a fraction but did not let go of the axe as he stepped off the dais and gestured toward the trestle table. “Join for us some food, wee elf, and we can discuss more. But do put that fire away, could you? It’s a bit unsettling in a hall of timber and thatch, aye? And where’d a tiny slip like you, if you don’t mind my asking, get such a great bloody sword. Look at it, Leofric, the thing’s the size of her.”

Saria had set the table and Aelle took a seat at its head while Rixxan noticed Saria was the magic user that he was having trouble with. “That’s the one,” he said while he poured himself ale from the pewter flagon on the table before pushing it toward Rixxan. “Saria. She’s mine and she’s got a nasty habit of making things burn, sometimes when she means to and sometimes when she doesn’t. So if we could find something that could get that to a place where I could know when she was to use it and direct its use, I would be willing to pay very, very handsomely.” He reached into his tunic and pulled out a heavy leather bag full of Adeluna’s silver crescents and tossed it to her. “One hundred crescents there, and that’s for the honor of your presence. There’s plenty more where that came from, but I just thought it would be good business to start by paying for your expertise. Isn’t that right, miss…?”

Leofric rolled his eyes behind his mug of ale and sighed inwardly. Where, he wondered, was that screaming, harsh, dangerous man who broke shield walls? He could never extend that to his hall and Leofric hated him for it. They could be stronger, lords of whole swathes of the North, but Aelle seemed content to have a hall and a ship and raid the world. One day, he thought, looking past Rixxan at Saria, Aelle would slip up and he would take full advantage. Everything of Aelle’s would be his and from there, Leofric thought, he could become a true warlord. He cleared his throat and leaned toward Rixxan. “So, this Saria, she’s got fire in her. Is that the sort of thing you can tear out or just hope to contain? And, if you don’t mind my asking, what’s a magical sort like yourself doing selling kit that would bind one of her own. Seems a bit suspicious to me is all,” he muttered when Aelle glared at him to be quiet, and again, Leofric seethed but obeyed. One day, he promised himself, one day…

“Mm, of course. Rixxan is my name, I’d heavily advise you not to mention that at any town halls though, and as for the sword, it was forged by elves and was to be for one of the strongest leaders in the elven community, I happened to acquire it from him during some personal dealings,” Rixxan slugged back a pint and slammed it back down with force one would expect of a Northern man. “Well, thank you very much, payment in advance isn’t required, but certainly appreciated,” Rixxan eyed the changepurse but didn’t touch it. Negotiations would be easy with this one.

The second in command decided it was his turn to address the issue, not bothering to introduce himself, which Rixxan found quite rude, hypocrite that she was. She raised and eyebrow and pursed her lips to the side while he spoke, clearly not understanding anything of magic.
“Well, she’s quite obviously a normal human who somehow learned a trick, I’m just mildly curious as to who taught it to her. The fire isn’t inside of her. It’s definitely from someone else. There’s no ‘tearing out’ the magic, you just put a lid on it and suppress it…” Rixxan’s tone in response to the slighter man was of mild annoyance, but slowly she leaned across the table, her face growing ever closer to this ignorant fool’s, “And I will have you know, dear, she is not my kind. If you’re smart, you will do well to never make the mistake of saying that to an elf as long as you shall live,” Rixxan growled this warning with ice in her voice as her eyes glowed an illuminated and burning fuschia, far different from her usual emerald green. (Usually, this was a trick she did to seduce men whom she would kill later on, but this man had just so happened to offend her enough…) This man knew she was of elven blood, it was so abhorrent to even think of being of the same breed as these humans, her offense at the comment was insurmountable.

Rixxan returned to her upright and sitting position after giving him a good look into the kind of crazy evil he was addressing, and returned to her usual composure.
She turned to address the girl now, “So, how about it kiddo, can we see some of that tasty fire? And don’t think about doing anything crazy with it, I’m a few thousand times stronger than you and I’ll burn you to a crisp in half the time it takes you to remember how to summon your little fireballs.” Rixxan waved the younger girl over, and motioned for her to exemplify her magical ability. The girl sighed and made a little fireball on her hand, then snuffed it out quickly. “Righty-oh, that’s interesting.” Rixxan smirked and nodded. This guy was lucky that she was here today, because that girl had an interesting power she’d picked up from something related to dragons. She had no interested or bearing on telling them how or why or what, as she had no full understanding of the matter but had started learning a bit of it in her travels.

“So, what I have for you is a pretty fun option, depending on your idea of fun. Obviously not fun for the kid,” she motioned over her shoulder toward the girl, Saria. From the ether where her array of weaponry lived, she pulled the magical bindings that had once been used to suppress her, and dangled them in the air above the table. They were thin and could easily pass for some type of bracelet that a girl might wear, when they were separated, so they were much easier to put onto someone than some of the bulkier metal bindings seen in prisons and jails. “These bindings,” Rixxan moved them around to show their vaguely strange aura, which emanated faintly off the metal, “…are able to render the wearer entirely incapable of using magic.” Rixxan removed the key from where she kept it, and unlocked the bindings so that they were simply two wristlets unattached to each other, “…They can be separated and allow the wearer to go about their daily business, simply keeping any magical mishaps from happening, or can be used as you might see on a prisoner in a jail cell,” Rixxan locked the bindings back together, displaying them as a whole again. The second in command’s face was incredibly interested once she did that, and Rixxan picked up on that, even though it might have been ust a light in his eye and microvascular facial movements.

“And, as an added fun fact, they work on any level of magical ability. For example, they even work on me, I've got the scars to prove it. If you’d like to try them out, you can certainly call your thrall over, plop them on, and see what I mean.” Rixxan slid the bindings over to Aelle, and refilled her pint.

“As for price,” she started as she sat back down, “I’m sure you know these are of the rarest magical lot around, certainly not going to find anything around here even close to it, so it only goes to say that the price is two thousand silver crescents. I’ll subtract the hundred here, so another nineteen hundred and you have yourself a quelled ‘witch’,” Rixxan smoothly rocked back in her chair, sipping her pint. This was an astronomical price and she knew it, but she knew she wasn’t going to sell the things for much less no matter who the buyer might be. Part of her even just wanted them gone out of spite for the pain they’d caused her, but nevertheless she remained the cool, calm Rixxan that she liked to be during this sort of situation. She predicted he would grumble about it a bit, but then he would finally try them onto the girl and realize he needed that kind of protection, not only for himself but for his hall and lands and everything else in his realm, and she would end up a happy and much richer elf at the end of the day.

Leofric stared at the elf as she explained the sort of magical situation that they had found themselves in. Highlanders were little accustomed to magic and did not rightly understand how it worked or where it came from. It was some sort of strangeness, borne out of evil, the old folks would say, and there were rumors, legends really, that the old Highlanders would kill witches and warlocks on sight. Times had changed, especially once the Northmen began to have more contact with the world in the south where magic was more practiced and accepted, but the North still held magic in a mix of contempt and fear. Her tone changed when she spoke of being an elf and he was about to reply when he noticed her eyes had changed color. He was more surprised than scared and it was that surprise that left him speechless, aside from a strangled “Yes…” Something about the woman terrified him but at the same time, he was intrigued and made a note to ask around after her, to understand her story.

Aelle chuckled when Rixxan put Leofric in his place and took some of the bread and cheese onto his trencher. Leofric, ever since the last raid, had seemed distracted and distant, but Aelle was not one to pry into another man’s affairs. Maybe one of the tavern girls he slept with had become pregnant and was looking for coin. It wouldn’t be the first time, he thought, then turned his attention back to Rixxan who took out a small pair of what seemed to be bracelets after she had Saria show her powers. Something Rixxan said bothered him but he could not place it, so he shrugged the feeling off and followed her demonstration. The bracelets seemed just the sort of thing he could use, something that would allow Saria to live and work in the hall without much discomfort but also strong enough to ensure that she would not be able to burn him alive in his bed, which was always a concern. “Saria, love, come over here and put out your hands like a good dear, and make a fireball. And don’t have any grand ideas about shooting it at me,” he said lightly but the threat was clear when he patted the shaft of his axe for good measure.

Saria complied meekly and a small tongue of flame danced above her hand. Aelle picked up the bindings from the table and snapped them over Saria’s wrists. The moment they were closed, the flame extinguished and Aelle smiled. “Seems you were right, Rixxan, they are just the sort of thing I’ve been looking for.” He took the key and separated them so that Saria’s hands were free and nearly choked on his ale when Rixxan named her price. “I could get a whole new set of the finest armor for that… A new ship, even… Are you out of your damned head, woman…” He growled a moment, biting his lip while he weighed the situation. What use, he thought, would armor or a ship be if Saria decided to burn down his hall with him inside it? Grudgingly, then, he nodded, and reached his hand across the table toward Rixxan. “Two thousand crescents all told, you have my word and you’ll have your money,” he said and shook her hand. “Leofric, go to the strongroom and get the coin for Rixxan here, then get the captains together. I think we have some planning to do, especially if I am two thousand crescents poorer,” he chuckled and sat back in his seat. “Saria, they will have use for you in the laundry today, so join the other women there.”

Leofric smiled as he left the main hall and stepped into the stoutly built strongroom. His key opened the lock on the trap door and he climbed down into the stone-lined chamber where Aelle stored his wealth. There were leather sacks of coin, barrels of it, jewelry, armor, and weapons, a true hoard. He lit a taper and checked one of the barrels of crescents and its etching showed that it held two thousand coins. Instead of changing out the hundred from the purse, he lifted the barrel on his shoulder and made his way back into the main hall where he deposited the payment in front of Rixxan. “Two thousand, in full,” he said and took the purse Aelle had given her, though he did not plan on returning it to the vault. “And if I were ever to need to reach someone like you again, madame elf, how would I be able to do such a thing. I believe there may be some work for you in the future for which this,” he tapped the barrel, “would simply be the retainer.”

With his conversation concluded, Leofric left to rouse the captains from their homes down the hill. His route purposely took him past the laundry women and he waited until Saria was nearly alone. While her back was turned, he slipped behind her and grabbed a handful of her hair. She made a startled noise as he wrenched her around and kissed her forcefully despite her stiffening under his touch. “We have unfinished business from this morning, my lovely,” he said as he pressed against her lewdly. “And don’t worry, Aelle has given me his blessing, so there nothing to fear or say,” he lied as he groped her shamelessly. “Until tonight, lovely.”

Sensing his discontent over pricing, Rixxan acted bored, studying her nails on an outstretched arm until Aelle finally gave in. Aelle sent is second in command off to retrieve her money, they waited in awkward silence, and the other man, Leofric, returned with her sum. Strangely enough, he also inquired of how to reach her in the future, which usually would not happen seeing as she was such an unsavory character in general..

Rixxan rolled back in her chair again, poking at the rune stones on her belt before prying one out and snapping it in two. She tossed the rock at the Leofric character, as he’d inquired on a way to contact her or reach her.
“Well, asking about me and searching will do you nearly as much good as it does the authorities. They’ve done a good job of catching me, as you can tell. But that, toss that in a fire and it should light up this end,” she pointed at the rune’s other half, “…and if I’ve time, I might stop by. Just be sure to make it worth my while,” Rixxan stood, and with that she placed her hand upon the barrel of crescents, transferring it to her ethereal vault. She was quite concerned about the true nature of this Leofric character, but it was none of her concern.

She nodded to Aelle, “It’s been a pleasure to do business with you, good luck and I do hope that you enjoy your mediocre human mage and her stolen talents.”
Having finished her actual business with the people of this hall, Rixxan transformed back to her traveling form, and exited through the same shadows which she’d entered through.

The whole proceeding of things up until Aelle asking her to leave the main hall was disgusting. First, the whole encounter with Leofric had left her completely shaken. Of course, the man was one of the more attractive people in this area of the world, but his the only thing she felt whenever she happened to catch his glance was fear. His eyes pierced through her, all the while making her feel more and more violated just from his leering. While business was conducted, she stayed far to the side of the hall, rather than sitting with Aelle as she would usually. Leofric still found a way to cast his threatening glances at her all the while, until the moments when Saria was summoned forward. 

The elf was cruel and terribly evil, evidenced by the fact that her own fire was black as obsidian. Saria had never even heard of someone with that kind of darkness inside of them, but she supposed it must have been possible. It was odd, though, that this evil spirit was in the form of an elf. Just from her time spent in the North so far, she would have figured that these were the most evil people. She was wrong, as this woman before her was clearly one of the darkest of souls. This woman clearly did not only peddle goods, either, as it was quite obvious she was a murderer and possible bounty hunter, though Saria suspected that any bounty hunting was solely out of convenience. This woman most definitely would enjoy taking all of the lives she took. 

Funnily enough, when Aelle instructed her to leave, she couldn't have been more relieved. The whole conversation in that hall had turned to be almost hostile, at least the tone the elf woman used made it seem like that. There was a chance the hall would eventually end up burning to the ground if the conversation went south. Going and participating in a mindless task such as laundry around the other women would make her mind much more at ease. 

The rest of the women paid no mind to Saria, most likely still mad that she had not received her proper reprimanding from Aelle. It was obvious that he favored her considering he was training her to be a proper lady, but he was lax in his discipline due to what she could only suspect were feelings for her which he was trying to hold back. He was clearly hurt by the loss of his true lover, and maybe that is what held him from making her a legitimate slave of his realm. Itching at the new 'jewelry' she had been so generously gifted, she gathered some of the dry laundry to fold in a basket, walking toward the shade of a tree to sit beneath. At least, she had planned for that to be what she did. Her thoughts wandered back to Aelle and his possible, and if existing, misplaced feelings for her, wondering what would ever become of her in the end. Was freedom ever to be hers, after all, or would she be cursed to stay her forever, either a slave or a titled woman? As she contemplated the future, she set the basket down and stood up to hear the tail-end of very rushed, shuffling noises just a moment too late.


A harsh stinging pain gripped the back of her scalp as her head was wrenched back, the force of the pull forcing her off balance and to stumble more into the culprit. Unsurprisingly, it was Leofric, though why he was here was a mystery, unless he were truly that obsessed with her… As it happened so fast, Saria could only exclaim out of shock before he had pressed his mouth down onto hers, nearly lifting her from the ground. If she were strong enough to have, she would have fought him off, but given his extreme strength in comparison to her own, all she was able to do was grow rigid and heavy as he let his hands do as he pleased on her body. Saria tried with all of her might to summon up her magic, but the wristlets held her back, keeping her powers subdued and only glowing meekly as she did. His body pressed harder upon her as he threatened her, though for some reason she knew he thought he was only finding a way to woo her, in very much the worst way possible.

When he finally released her and returned on his way, as if nothing had even taken place, Saria leaned against the tree while sinking to the ground, breathing deeply. How had she fallen into such a terrible stroke of bad luck? Had she been cursed without knowing it, or had finding the book been what had cursed her? She held her head in her hands for a moment, before wiping away tears as her brain analyzed the situation that had just taken place. Leofric was certainly beautiful as far as a man went, but he was so cruel that it did not matter. However, domething he had said made no sense to her, and she realized very quickly that he had made a fatal mistake. There was no chance in the world that Aelle had 'given' his blessing. Aelle wanted Saria for himself, though for some reason he couldn't bring himself to force his way unto her (which she was growing to respect the more that Leofric tried to do things to her) and she knew deep down he would not allow that sort of thing. What could even have happened in the past bit a time since she'd left the hall that such a conversation would have even happened? 

Saria knew what she must do to end this onslaught of sexual advances from Leofric, and lifted her head up. He had gotten far enough away from her that she bet, if she were to run with all of her might, she would make it back to the hall before him. One more deep breath, she lifted herself from the ground, and broke away towards the hall, refusing to look back or slow down. To do so would only mean her suffering would continue under that bitter man's hold, and at this moment she wanted freedom from him more than her freedom in life. Nearly halfway there, her adrenaline kicked in and she felt the air come into her lungs with more ease. She was going to be free of this wretched man. She would tell Aelle and he would either murder or banish him, because he cared for her in a way he shouldn't, and she would be free of him! She almost smiled, but the focus on running and breathing was more important. 

Hope was rising inside her. She was so close now, she knew Leofric could never stop her if she got to Aelle and told him what had been happening. 

Much to Saria's dismay Leofric apparently knew that, too. 

Though excitement and desperation had sped her forward, it wouldn't match the speed of a warrior of the North who knew he would face certain doom. The ground came faster than she could even comprehend as the force of his entire body came down upon her, and in that sliver of an instant of time her hope blinked out of existence. She tried again to summon up some magic to protect herself, but couldn't. She felt her body bruise as the ground tossed her about for a few seconds, finally rolling to a stop in the dirt with Leofric entangled with her. Saria's heart raced, pounding hard enough in her chest to almost cause her pain, and she knew she would have to find a way to extract herself from his grip and get to the hall. Despite his struggling against her, he hadn't managed to get a hold of her legs, and with all she could muster she pulled her knees up to her chest and kicked him as hard as she could, directly in the gut. Given that he had a good deal of muscle to protect him from any true injury, she knew it would give her only moments to get running once again. She scrambled back to her feet and ran again, the door almost blurry and her head pounding. Had she been actually injured in the fall? Was she concussed? She reached the door of the hall and for a moment, her breath gave way and she doubled over, coughing and wheezing, as she fumbled with the door. She grasped at the handle and used it to balance as she straightened up and prepared to enter. 

Leofric's shadow behind her caused her to stop, and his hand pressed on the door so that she could not budge it. Instantly, she began to whimper and tears erupted from her eyes. He lifted her off the ground, pressing her against the door in a different way than he had before. This was not the typical perverted, sexual deviant form of Leofric. This was an enraged and vengeful form. His eyes burned holes into her and she knew now, she was in trouble. 

Aelle, with Leofric gathering the captains of other ships in the town and the best men of his crew and Saria occupied with the laundry, relaxed and sipped at his ale while he tried to decide where it would be best to send his ship next. There were rich settlements left in the Highlands that would be perfect to plunder, but he thought his crews would be unhappy to fight their own people again. Some of the men had even complained about the last raid even though they had become rich, because it had been against the men of the North. So instead, Aelle decided, he would head south and see what the soft, rich southern kingdoms could provide plunder without bothering the delicate moral sensibilities of the more scrupulous members of the crews. To that end, he pulled a map out of the chest near his seat and, pushing the platter of food aside, spread it on the long table, weighting the ends with ale mugs.

The Orcs of Yovaesh would yield a great plunder but the raid would cost the Highlanders men, something it was difficult to replace in a crew. Trained warriors were a commodity, as much as any other, and wasting the lives of twenty or thirty men would weaken Aelle too much to risk it, even if the rewards would be staggering. He traced it finger farther down the coast and came to Vilpamolan, the pirate city. There would be plenty of ships in the area with good cargoes but each of them would be well crewed and ready to protect their plunder. Again, the loss of good men would not be worth it, unless Aelle was lucky. He tucked that idea aside and continued to study the map as the shipmasters and warriors began to assemble. “Brothers, we have serious business to discuss. We have to continue with our raids, now that the season for calm seas is drawing to a close. I do not want us to worry in the depths of winter so this strike must be one that will yield silver enough to last til spring.”

Leofric glanced pointedly at Saria and subtly patted the hilt of his short sword and his eyes spoke volumes as to the threat he made against her. Once he was sure the slave was suitably chastened, he spoke up from his seat near Aelle. “We could strike south to the Orc Isle, maybe capture a trading ship off their waters. It would not be as impressive as a raid on the isle itself, but it would mean we would not lose men.” Aelle waited for the other captains to speak and two of them voiced their tentative approval of the idea but wanted to hear what Aelle had to say first. A good trading ship could make a single crew rich but it would take a fleet of them to enrich all the ships leaving Dunholm on the raid. Aelle nodded absently and chewed his lip as he looked at the map. Something had to be tried, something new, and he thought he had just the idea.

“We are looking at this all wrong,” he said, softly enough that only the men seated closest to him could hear. “We are looking at this all wrong,” he repeated himself, louder this time, and the men slowly fell silent. “How many cities and towns now have stout walls and harbor chains and Maker knows what else to keep out our ships? They’ve learned that we keep coming at them in the same old way, and they can see us off from behind their walls and we either lay siege or slink away. But our ships, they are built for a shallow coast… So…” He jabbed the map with his finger. “There. The Northern River, in Bohar. The tribes will move south for the winter months, so their mounts have forage, but their trading settlements will still be full. There is one at the first bridge across the river, not a city, but stuffed full of silver, if the rumors are true. And our ships can enter the river and strike from the water. A horseman would never think to protect himself when his back is already protected by the river, so we should be able to walk right in, take what we want, and burn the rest!”

The men, hearing the plan, roared their approval, slapping the table until the ale splashed out of the mugs. Aelle called for more drink to be brought and Saria and the other thralls went into the buttery to fill large flagons for the warriors. Food was brought as well and soon, after minor details were discussed, a feast took shape. A harpist was summoned from one of the taverns to entertain the men by the roaring hearth and, in due course, the men became nearly insensate with drink, some wrestling with each other in the floor rushes to prove their strength and others half dozing among the platters of food on the long tables. Aelle himself, drunk enough to slur his speech, waved to the servants and thralls in the hall. “To bed, the lot of you. This cleaning can wait til morning. Go on… Leofric, make sure they are all where they belong and then join us, my friend, for another round!” The slighter man smiled, bowed his head, and stood, shooing the women out the hall, making sure to follow just a step behind Saria, determined to keep his promise.

After entering the hall essentially in Leofric's custody, Saria had tried to inch away from him but he had made sure to maintain a close perimeter around her. Her eyes found themselves drawn to the floor, as everytime she lifted them she had been struck with Leofric's gaze. He was no doubt on the edge of rendering her in two should she decide to tell Aelle what Leofric had done unto her. The actual process of the decision-making that took place amongst the captains and chiefs was of little concern to her. As soon as she found the chance, she muddled amongst the rest of the servants, pretending to look busy, all the while plotting in her head how she was to find a way out of this mess.
What was she to do? One thought came to her mind, she could find a way to contact that evil woman who had been there earlier. If she could, she could slip silver crescents into her dress and begin storing them somewhere until she had enough to buy assistance in gaining her freedom. But that woman was not only terrifying, evil, and clearly out of her mind, but was most likely difficult to track down, just judging from the fact that she could simply slip in and out of the darkness. It would be a possible, last-hope-for-her-life kind of possible, plan. After every other plan failed. And after suicide had been attempted and failed.

Knowing that this plan was going to mean she would have to at least have started it well in advance, Saria made sure to put into action the first point of her plan – stealing the coin. During the course of things, with drunken shenanigans taking place, it was less than difficult for Saria to happen to bump into Aelle, whose drinking habits had him beyond recognizing the sensation of such a slight thing. The advantage was hers as she was able to get his key to the strongroom, without him noticing. She would be able to replace it without issue in time, either while he slept or in the morning.

What else, though, realistically? She could linger around Aelle as much as possible and hope for Leofric to get bored of waiting for her to be alone and have to find someone else to prey upon, at least for the short-term. In the long-term, she was entirely unsure of what to do.

As Aelle dismissed the thralls of the hall to their own chambers, herself included, Saria had come up with a bit of a plan to at least get her off of the hook with Leofric for the night. He seemed to be pretty enthralled with himself, and had also mentioned that ‘many’ of the women knew about his… Saria couldn’t even think it, after having been nearly face to face with… it… herself. She was not prepared for that sort of thing. Yes, Aelle would drunkenly grope at her and fondle her, but his touch could not even come close to being as voracious as how Leofric could just look at her. Considering that meant Leofric probably had relations with some of the women who served within the hall, and additionally considering that the average woman might find him relatively attractive, Saria devised a plan.

Aelle had sent Leofric as an escort of sorts for the women, but Saria was not going to be caught by surprise. No, this time she would surprise him. She walked faster, and caught up to a cluster of some of the women, to begin her plan. Making sure not to actually break into their ranks, she simply echoed into the group, “Did you see Leofric really stepping up back at that meeting? He is a real man, a really fine man. ”

Saria quickly slipped past the group as her plan began to unfold. One woman elbowed another and exclaimed in rage, having assumed that one had said what Saria had. Another snapped at her friend, nearly headbutting her with how quickly she turned on her. Hateful, jealous words began to fly, and cat-like hands tore at hair while Saria stole away, not down the hall toward Aelle’s chamber, but instead toward the strongroom. Leofric, who had been tailing behind the lot of them, was caught behind the group, and once they noticed he was there they immediately ceased their squabbling with each other, and instead began swooning over him in clear embarrassment over their prior behavior. What they did made no difference to Saria, she just needed them to stall him and keep him away from her.

She had to make this quick. In and out, as fast as possible. She found the trap door, and found her adrenaline fueling her speed for the second time that day. In a matter of seconds, she climbed down into the hold and looked for the nearest purse of coin, reaching in and grabbing a handful of crescents to stuff into her dress. Fear was ruling her and rather than snoop around or try for more, she climbed out as quickly as she had entered, locking the door once more after she closed the hatch.

Saria finally exhaled, realizing she had not taken a breath that entire time. Seeing that she was not in direct danger from Leofric, she made her way quietly to Aelle’s chambers. Strangely enough, no Leofric happened to be lurking by any corridors, or behind any corners, but Saria was not going to complain about that. The chamber door as slightly ajar upon her arrival, but that could have been from any number of things throughout the day. As her adrenaline rush declined, she felt her body start to slow as well. She trudged through the door, not even bothering to shut it as she finally began feeling the weight of the day and started toward the bed. Sleep was something she could definitely look forward to at this point, after such a trying day.

She slumped onto the bed, happy to maybe be able to enjoy an hour or two of sleep without being shoved down to the foot of the bed like a dog. For a moment she closed her eyes, and thought she could almost drift to sleep right then until she was startled to her feet. All but the dimmest of the lamps which lit the room had been doused or extinguished while her eyes were closed, and now the door was just slammed shut. Saria knew it was Leofric, even through the darkness she could feel his gaze as if it could strip her down past the flesh, and begin to chip away at her bones. Alert and ready, she took advantage of the dark, listening for him to get close and dropping down onto the floor, and crawling under the bed, coming out the other side. He could definitely hardly see her, as he was still fumbling under the bed to try and grab her as she snuck around the front side of the bed.

Saria tried to reach for something she could use to defend herself with, finding only one of the wall sconces to be in reach. Out of desperation, she grabbed it and pried it from its place on the wall. Leofric was nearly upon her now, and despite the fact that he was considerably bigger than she was, she landed an impactful blow to his face with the sconce. Saria was so pleased with herself upon feeling the impact of sconce meeting face that she hesitated, thinking that she would almost have been strong enough as to stun him for more than a moment.

The reality was that she had hardly phased him. She gasped as his hand wrapped around her wrist, another catching her throat and lifting her up off the ground, careless of the rough wall scraping against her as he did. If he chose to, he could have snapped her neck at that moment, and considering she had just nearly assaulted him (in self-defense, nonetheless) she was worried that might be just what he would do.