They stood beneath the bloody leaves of the ancient weirwood tree as Ygga the witch shook a link of rune covered animal bones and drank her fill goat's blood. The old woman was an ugly thing, hunched and wrinkly, her face windswept from years mountain drafts, her mouth blackened by rot.

she spoke loudly in old tongue and prayed to the old gods.

Jaroll thought the witch mad. He believed in the old Gods and feared their power like any other, but he didn't believe one bit in some blood guzzling old hag from the mountains.

Witches weren't looked fondly upon in the lands of house Magnar and for good reason too, all they ever asked for was goat whenever they carried out a 'divinaton', one'd think since they always needed goats to cast their spells or commune with the gods, they'd raise their own.

But this was the old way. Even the elders didn't push back when they heard the tales of the mad chieftain. Even now he could hear their fierce whisperings as the ritual went on.

As for the mad man who came stumbling into his Lord's halls crying of Fire Daemons, he was locked on the witch with an intense gaze. If Jaroll didn't know any better, he'd assume the man wanted to shag the old bat.

In truth, the man was possibly watching to see if the witch would fall ill. The mad man claimed that when he called upon his own woods witch, the woman had danced and keeled over, only muttering the word 'Fire' in old tongue before dying.

This witch waved off his warnings, claiming she was much stronger than his henge witch.

Jaroll didn't qiute believe in the madness of Fire Wights. As a boy, he heard of the tales of Long Night when the world was covered in darkness and a long winter reigned. One where men would be born, grow old and die without ever seeing the sun. The White Wights and their dead thralls warred against the living in their attempt to maintain an endless era of frost and death.

'Wights o' ice and snow come with the dark and cold. Why would Wights o' Fire and smoke be comin' for the land at the of turn o' winter?'

His train of thought was broken as the witch stopped her mad dance. He was a little ways away from her but he could see her staring at the face of the weirwood tree tears streaming down her face. She whispered to the tree as if sharing a secret.

She then turned to Lord Magnar who stood not far away.

"What did ya see Ygga? What wisdom 'ave the old gods giv'n you?" Jaroll listened carefully to hear what shite the witch was planning to say.

Ygga opened her arms wide as if to hug the world and shouted: "I 'ave seen the invaders who 'ave descended onto these lands! They're no Daemons but men! But not men like us, they wear black an' crimson armour, ride strange beasts an' dabble in powerful magicks! They'll roam these lands like direwolves and seek to claim it as their own!"

The assembled crowd of elders whispered around him. The lord Magnar's face was a storm!

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"It is as I said! We mus' gather and chase these monsters from our land Lord Magnar!" Jaroll stepped closer to the tree, he wished to grab the mad chief who just dared to command the lord and bash his teeth in.

Thankfully he didn't have to since the Lord turned and with a swing, slapped the man off his feet. "No!"

The fallen man grabbed his red and swollen face. "B-but lord mag-."

"Shout yer mouth! Speak again and I'll take yer tongue!" Varamyr cut the mad man off.

"The fool did speak out of place Lord but something must be done." Spoke one the wizened elders standing nearby.

"This is good! They may be powerful in magicks, but they are still men. If we bring the full might of kingshouse upon em', we may banish these foul invaders before they spread!" Another added.

It didn't take much for others to nod and made sounds of approval.

'Look at 'em harp' Jaroll tsked.

He didn't like these dried up old cods. In times they acted as if they ruled before the Lord himself. But if these rumours were true..... It would be the best to do something.

He looked to the Lord as the group's hawking died down.

"These are men yes, but we don' know 'em. We mus' first learn of these men and their magicks. Then we attack!" The Lord said.

'As expected of Lord Varamyr.' He thought as the old fools made sounds of agreement.

"Jaroll!" The Lord turned to him.

"Lord Magnar!" He answered and approached his lord, the older man's green eyed gaze was full of strength and power.

"Gather 20 of yer best riders, take the witch and Tordill. Have him lead ye to his clan in secret. You will watch these invaders from the bushes an' find out anything ye can! Yer to leave in the morn at first light!"

"Aye m'lord!" He stood at attention, already thinking of the men he would need to take on the journey.

"Ygga! Ye will try't learn of their strange magicjs, see wot weakness they 'ave." Jaroll could see the witch wasn't pleased but she was not foolish enough to say it.

(-)

Later that day, he made his way home. It was getting dark as it usually did in winter or just after it. Thankfully the fires of the castle kept the place well lit.

He had just finished reporting to Lord Varamyr on the future ranging.

As a master at arms, his home was inside the castle walls close to his lord where he could protect him from harm, it didn't take long to reach his home.

He opened the door to see his wife rocking their child to sleep.

They didn't say anything for risk of waking the babe. He just moved to the fire and sat, warming himself. His thoughts on the task that lay ahead in the morn.

What would they find at the blighted clan of the mad man? Would there be a scorched ruin? If the goat blood guzzling witch spoke true, the men they were to watch were powerful in magicks. Would they find a village of burnt weirwood and men being thrown into fires to power dark rituals?

He must have fell asleep as he opened his eyes to the smell of stew and his wife's touch.

"Jenga" He looked at her and rubbed her arm.

"Heard there'r invaders at crab claw point." She said.

"Mmm, if the words of a mad, old witch and a wild man are true. Lord's sendin' me down there in the morn to watch 'em." She nodded at his words and moved to grab the pot by the fireplace, but he grabbed her before she could.

"Be gone a long time. Best to get a taste before I go." He said to and watched as her pale face redden.

"The food?" she motioned with her head to the pot by the hearth.

"Later." He pulled her to him and stood with her in his arms.

"The boy's sleep'n." He asked looking at the cot futher of in the room.

"Mus' be..... had a long day in the stables." She smiled at him.

(-)

The next day he inhaled the food before him at the table. The sun hadn't risen yet, and wouldn't for an hour or two he reckoned.

Jenga walked about with the babe at her teat. It was it the one who woke him. The babe had strong howlers on her, but that was a good thing. They lost many a child in the winter. Wouldn't do no good to grumble les' the gods take back their blessings. This babe was strong.

"Eat faster boy! You'll be the one tending to my mount!" He looked at his oldest boy, Rokar. He would soon be a boy no longer at two and ten. Soon he would need to head out on his own.

"Hmmm!" The boy hummed into his gruel. Jaroll was rather proud of his son, he wasn't a warrior like himself, but he was growing to be a fine lad. With eyes as green and fierce as Lord Magnar's the boy would go far.

It didn't take long for them to finish eating and head out. He left his boy to tend to the stables for the journey. He would make sure to gather his men and have them riding out by first light.

It didn't take long to find them. By the time he reached inside the courtyard at kingshouse, his lord, the mad man, the witch and the unicorns were all gathered and ready for their depature.

"May the Gods be with ye." His lordship said to them before they rode from the castle.

Jaroll hardened his face as he spured his steed forward. It would be a long, dangerous journey through the bitter chill of winter. They would need to watch out for berserker attacks, snow storms and wild beasts, but in half a moon they would be near crab claw point and see exactly what was to be found there.