Zerinian Scion and Michael Strongarm sat together in a cart with other travelers from various points of interest. The two of them were across from each other but had not spoken during the long ride. Both had on and off seen each other since Maribor, it appeared that both were heading for Brugge since that was the destination of the cart they had boarded in Mayena. Along the way looking outwards at the scenic landscapes there were various omens of war. No they did not see riders in the skies or demons but instead farmers and refugees fleeing to the North. While Temeria was indeed a strong bastion of the North it was not entirely safe, as usual the monarchs were having their minor squabbles and King Foltest himself was not even upon the throne. Instead Foltest was off in search of his bastard children while laying siege to La Valette castle, the home of his mistress and lover. To the East of Temeria in Aedern King Henselt was attempting diplomacy, at least what a Kaedweni might consider diplomacy, with the Virgin of Aedirn and Prince Stennis whom which now was in line for the throne of Aedirn after the assassination of King Demawend. Blood was being spilled in ever corner of the North it would seem as the throats of both nobles and serfs were being slashed.
The road had been bumpy, while once the Old Road to Brugge was a marvel to behold it had fallen from grace, now it was little more than stone and mud. This did not deter the driver of the cart a Dwarf named Brakyn Morin. The entire time during the travel he did not shut up, he kept pointing out every landmark along the way citing supposed history of ruins or forests that were probably only a few decades old. One of the other customers of Brakyn did pay attention, he was an older man in blue clothing that seemed to fit him perfectly meaning he must have spent the coin to get it fitted. The man would often nod at Brakyn or look at whatever was being spoken about. While travelling past a farm Brakyn motioned towards them while clearing his throat. "Now ya see those there bovines grazing about in that field? Best be keepin' your eyes on them ladies. If ya really want to get a chance ta see somethin' unbelievable. Haven't seen it myself but I hear a Mantracore be flying about these parts eatin' them. Heard one swooped down and grabbed six in each claw. Thing must a' been as big as a fort, tough as one too. Hearin' they called for a Witcher. Last time I checked Witchers can't fly." At his last remark the Dwarf chuckled loudly. After hearing this story the man in blue seemed very nervous and pulled out a piece of cloth to wipe his forehead before speaking up, "We're not at risk though correct Mr Morin? It only goes after the cows?" Brakyn raised a brow then half nodded and half shrugged, "Suppose we're safe. Not heard of a Mantracore takin' any carts or I sure as hell wouldn't be riding to Brugge. Though if they shit as much as birds do we may get crushed to death. I don't think we'd be around long enough to get a whiff though." All the while saying this Brakyn had a simple grin on his face which seemed to rub the man in blue the wrong way. He sat back in his seat while folding both arms obviously annoyed by the Dwarf's words. Fortunately no flying creature appeared in the sky aside from simple birds, they weren't interrupted by steely claws ripping them apart piece by piece.
It was almost nightfall when Brakyn finally brought the cart to a stop at a village waking those that had nodded off. The buildings did not look to be anything spectacular but they weren't crumbling, it was a simple place. No structure looked to be more than two stories in height but this was clearly not their end destination. The man in blue held out a hand motioning towards the village while asking, "Why have we stopped? This is not the city of Brugge clearly Brakyn." Slyly he responded, "No more Mr Morin? Also are ye blind? Look around." Far off by a tree where Brakyn was pointing were some swaying things which took a moment to see. As soon as everyone got a good look they recognized the hanging bodies of Elves that lightly moved to and fro in the wind. He continued, "Squirrels. The path to Brugge is through a forest, ain't a chance in hell I'm going through woods with Squirrels about. I may be a Dwarf but even that goes so far. This is the end of our journey together, ya folks can wait here until the Squirrels move on then head to Brugge, it's barely a stone's toss away. King Darhaus probably won't stand for the pissants mucking up his routes, it'll be cleared within a week. There's an inn here, someone might even let ya stay with them play your cards right. Either case I'm going to be stopping here in Pentraef before heading back tomorrow." Rather than argue the man in blue just hopped off, as soon as he saw the Elf bodies his face twisted so obviously he agreed.
Pentraef was not beautiful but some clear points of interest could be seen from the cart. There was a stable, two inns, various shops, the hanging trees, barracks, marketplace, brothel, and a farm. At the far end of the village across the street was a large building which must have served as the leaders place of residence whomever they might be. From the barracks stepped out a man in a hunting cap with a feather sticking out and some sort of badge on his shoulder. He was wearing a leather jerkin and simply leggings, on his hip was a sheathed dagger. Leaving behind the barracks he quickly moved towards one of the inns as dark clouds formed above, it appeared as if it were going to rain. Some people were gathered over by the hanging trees where the Elves continued to decay, a few looked to be armed to some degree. While the village didn't have heavy defenses it had a tower and some wooden fortifications but nothing that could hold off a band of Scoia'tael. Temerian soldiers loitered about with a handful leaving an in shitfaced unable to walk in a straight line, singing a song called Emhyr var Em-ass, Fuck the Emperor. At least that is what they called it. Off of the main road were many houses that were spaced apart from one another, outside of a window stood a man in a puffy shirt with a puffy hat and purple tights. In his arms was a lute as he played, though he was too far away from the cart for anyone to hear him proper. A few posters hung from the side of the village center with some appearing tattered but a few looked fresh. On the road in a puddle was an old man laying on his side that no one paid any mind to. Brakyn hoisted himself off of the cart to inspect the wheels and some of the bags he had brought with leaving the two left customers to go their ways. A few Dwarves emerged from one of the inns and were heading for the cart, they were not armed with anything more than thick limbs and big guts. One sported a beard so long it almost touched the ground, he was clearly older than the other with gray patches in his hair. At the stable was an Elf carrying food for the animals, she wore a short dress tunic and trousers with tall boots. While both of her ears were cut at the points she was still clearly an Elf, there was no mistaking it. With everything before them the two men were left to their devices.
The Witcher The White Inferno [M] (IC)
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