The Crab Chief knew something was amiss by the time they got within a league of his homeland. The journey wasn't without its own perils and tribulations much like his own escape to kingshouse, there were many unexpected issues: a unicorn twisted a leg, the old witch fell and broke an arm and worst of all, the attack on their group by a pack of berserkers.

Despite their superior numbers and equipment, mountain berserkers were no jape. They were mad creatures driven to the insanity by winter starvation and frost. They were those fallen souls who gave into hunger and were willing to commit any deed to fill themselves.

It was they who almost killed him on his escape to kingshouse moons ago. If he hadn't been set upon and had to leave his poor unicorn behind to the brutes, he would've made it to Lord Magnar's seat of power earlier.

Despite all the trials they encountered on their secret journey, it was when they neared his homeland he felt off. At the time he wondered if he was just afraid to get close to the place. Frightful of what horrors lay beyond the treeline.

'Surely crab claw point was now a massive ritual ground? A place filled with death, fire and ash.' He agonized over what his wife and children endured since the vile Fire witches took his home.

Was it their spirts haunting him as he got close?

Was it the spirits of the dead men he failed?

He couldn't tell. He wished to inform Varamyr's men of his unease, but he didn't bother. The warriors of kingshouse were divided into two groups. Those who believed him and those who didn't.

Even the fellows who thought his words true made it clear they had little respect for a craven who fled his homeland. As for the those who didn't? They thought him a mad fool. In the end he was barely trusted to lead the group to their destination.

'They won't listen ta me.' Tordill huffed.

Mad man they called him. Who wouldn't go mad at the sight he bore witness to? Who wouldn't tear their hair out in wonder at what became of their family?

Maybe if the damned men had listened or the witch had done her part they wouldn't be chained and surrounded at the feet of the Fire ritualists.

Earlier they'd gotten close to the village to the point where he could see the expanded treeline and the cursed wooden wall the invaders had erected. Their leader: Jaroll, decided to step up camp for the night about 500 paces away to avoid being discovered by any guards.

They hid in bushes and suffered the cold; not daring to light a fire - lest the Fire ritualists see or sense the flames.

In the end it was all for nothing. The Fire men descended in the dead of nightfall, he should have expected it. Damn it he should have expected it!

Before the watchers could warn everyone aleep, fire and the screeches of monsterous beasts were upon them. They all jumped up to face the invaders but it was too late.

Like a fish in the sea, a weighted net was thrown over him. He crumpled and fell in a heap. From the shouting and struggling he heard at the time, he wasn't alone.

Tordill was then beaten until soft and bruised before being bound with metal.

Metal!

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The extremely rare and valuable material in the land used as bindings. As a boy, he heard retellings of the wars between the starks of old, he was told they brought castle forged metal swords and wore plate armour into battle against the Skagosi who used wood and stone.

Of course this was the only way the Starks could win against the men of Skagos in each of their people's engagements.

Only a few great Chiefs wielded metal swords into battle, and only the three lordly houses of the land possessed enough iron and steel swords to arm their most loyal men. Even then, they were armed with these weapons on only the most dire of occasions.

Even now, of the 20 armed men of this failed mission, only five carried bronze weapons with Jarrol himself wielding an iron sword. Too bad the fools didn't even get to use them.

"Uuhgg!" He and his fellows where herded together and forced to their knees as the sound of more riders grew louder.

The strangest thing to him was the sounds weren't the hoove trots of a unicorn but something else. The strange creature approached, but it was too dark to truly see it. He could tell was it wasn't one of the monstrous lizards they rode when the first invaded his land. No, he'd remember the heavy footfalls of those beasts till the end of his days.

He heard the creature walking in his direction before stopping a few places away. Its rider dismounted, the frozen snow squeaked as the person approached.

In an instant, a ball of flame erupted in the outstreched palm of the man, illuminating both his face and that of his mount.

They all shouted In surprise, though he mostly did at the sight of the strange creature the man rode. It had an elongated head with a broad, curved beak and a thick neck!

His eyes roamed over the monstrous forms of the thing. The shadowy figure of its body was shaped like a bird. The the better illuminated head seemed to be covered by coarse brown mane of feathers.

"B-by the Gods!" Tordill heard Jaroll shout at the sight of the vile witches. The man always seemed to believe he was lying or simply mad. If the situation wasn't so dire, he would have felt some satisfaction.

The armoured fire man's face was covered in the horrible skull helm, hiding his features. Though he did seemed to look them over. Then he began to speak.

In the tales of old, the White Wights were said to sound like the cracking of ice. He wondered on many occasions since the invasion; how the Fire men would sound, like the crackling of fire?

But no, it seemed the witch was right about one thing... these invaders were no daemons, they spoke a strange and foreign tongue but it wasn't monstrous as their magic or beasts.

The men began grabbing them and moving them towards his home. Toredill wondered what fresh horrors he would find there. Would he see the ground covered in blood? Bodies hanging from racks?

What of his wife and children? Were they eaten? Sacrificed to whatever dark gods these Fire men drew their power from?

Surely these Fire men needed to pay a great prices for their accursed powers with how readily they summoned it.

The walk was slow and horrible in the darkness with only torchlight and magic flame to lead the way. Soon though he could see towering walls and towers of wood with great fires burning atop them.

Their captors called up to the men on the walls and the massive gates were open up to them. As they entered the area proper, Tordill noticed it was much brighter inside. With roaring flame light allowing him to see massive crimson tents and wooden structures. It didn't stink of blood and he heard no screams, only the chatter of the invaders and crickets.

They were led through the area and down a wide path. The futher in they went, the more he wondered how this was his home. It was unrecognizable!

He looked around desperate to see a familiar face. But were ever he looked he only saw the strange forms of the Fire men in their strange garments walking about.

'So that's it then.. they were killed.' He shook with tears as the Fire men shoved them all in a tent and bound them tightly together. What would ensue was likely some ritual to either prepare them for sacrifice or the stew cauldron.

More Fire men approached, looking their bodies over and tending to their wounds.

'So we are to be kept alive for now...' He closed his eyes in prayer. If he was to be killed he would only hope to ask the countless gods of the forest to have mercy on his soul and to curse the wickef Fire men and their evil gods for all time.

(-)

The next day, Dolaf strolled though the area of the Fire men, he was being led to a rather large and elaborate tent by one of the armoured guards.

He was a little worried. Just a few moments ago he was tending to the animals only to be called away by a guard. The Fire men opened the tent for him and lead him inside.

There he saw a number of people most he didn't recognize except the Fire man shawo (xiao) and a short Fire man who seemed to be the leader of the Fire men.

Who he didn't expect to see was chieftain Tordill, battered and brusied kneeling at their feet.

"Ah dolahu comu." Dolaf walked over to the man as commanded, the invaders spoke strangely but he was getting better at understanding them.

He nodded in difference to the Fire men.

The short Fire man babbled and waved his arm to the group.

'He's askin' me if I know any of these fellows.' Dolaf nodded and pointed to his wildlooking chief.

"This was the chief." He pointed out the only person he recognized among the prisoners.

Before anyone could say anything, chief Tordill began shouting at him, "Goat boy?! Ye live!? Did they not sacrifice ye?!"

He looked aroud the room, mostly at the Fire men, he responded when shawo urged him to go on.

Dolaf told the chief of his current life and what happened after the invaders sacked the village. The man seemed to disbelieve him, bent on the notion that they were sacrificed to dark Gods.

"Lies! Where's everyone then!!? How could ya be colluding with these evil invaders? Did ye turn from the gods?!" His chief showered him with questions and threats.

By the time he finished answering the near mad man, his throat was dry. He was relieved when he was told he could leave and was escorted back to his work.

While he didn't have to courage to say it to the chief ...he didn't fancy being called a traitor. Even though he fled from the battle, the chief ran away too. Even the great chief was brought low by the Fire men, he could only do what he had to so that he could survive.