The Clans of the North

On a light mist day near a shallow glen, the sun shone through its cracks. A faint call of horn echoed past the tall ancient stones of the old forests before falling hushed. A flutter of black wings broke the silence. A large black crow flew noisily, scattering its feathers amidst the grass as it perched itself on a branch of a petrified tree. Its beady eyes stood vigilant as it flapped its scruffy feathers in place and watched the scene that unfolded beyond yonder.

The blaring of horns and the thunderous sound of boots broke the bustling peace of the forest. The once plain valley soon swamped with hundreds of charging men in their armor with weapons at the ready. Banners waved erratically in the air, displaying symbols and colors reflecting their tartan coats. The earth shook with a loud boom as the forces colliding. Arrows and spears filled the air as the man hacked each other to pieces.

"You damned bag of pillow feathers!" the sound of an old woman emanated through the trees. The Crow lost focus of the battle and looked behind him.

"Can't you perch yourself on a peg for a minute before flying off about? My old bones be aching keeping up." The Witch emerged from the clearing, panting. She was an ancient creature, both figurative and literal. Old as old can be with white hair carried by skin and bones. Despite the age however, she still had her ecstatic spirit.

"Cry me a river you cantankerous hag!" The Crow squawked with a gruff tone. "It ain't my fault yea can't catch up. Dig a grave already woman."

The Witch gave the Crow a quick whack on the head with her cane. The Crow shrugged it off with a shake and flew to make way for the Witch.

"That ain't the first nor the last you get from me, deary" The Witch said cheerfully. "Now do please, shut it." She wobbled her way to the edge of the hill and surveyed the scene while the Crow perched himself at her cane.

"So. Who are fighting now here?" The Witch asked. Her poor old gaze could only see so far. She had to rely on the Crow for the details.

"Two big Clans of this region, duking it out on the final round." The Crow said. "The only two left, you know. DunBroch and Rul'Bar."

"The ones from Rul'Bar are holding their ground from on top of that hill. DunBroch are still charging 'em head on." The Crow continued. "The shield walls are holding but the attacking men aren't giving up. Not sure if they're brave of just stupid. Either way, their losses keep on coming and are getting pushed back."

"Ah. That one looks interesting." The Witch pointed out to a man that emerged from the forest. He led a cavalry charge into the flanks and clashed with the unsuspecting enemy. "Am guessing that he'd be the Chief then?"

The Lord of DunBroch was a large man with fiery red hair that matched his wild nature. He wore his clan's tartans with pride and draped by a dark green cape and iron helm. Riding his heavy horse with his sword in tow, he threw himself in the mass of the enemy. The man's strength was paramount as none dared stand against him. Warriors were toppled over and blown away by the swing of the large man's sword. The forces of Rul'Bar soon routed as the warriors of DunBroch pushed through with Clan Lord leading in the front.

"Right you are granny." The Crow replied. "That's Lord Fergus of DunBroch."

"Is that right now?" The Witch pondered. "Interesting."

"What's there to him?" The Crow asked.

"Oh nothing important so never you mind. I do say that the man is quite a bear." The Witch chuckled. "I just got a feeling that this man has the potential for something great."

The spectators watched as the warriors of DunBroch broke through the ranks. The forces of Rul'Bar were quickly pushed back and lost their recent ground. Panic struck down on the enemy and was routed en masse back to their camp.

The Lord of Rul'Bar himself revealed himself from the battlements. He was a tall man with a shaved head and a heavy beard. His face was stern and cold whilst riddled with many scars.

Riding forward with his horse and rallied his men through the lines. With his large axe, he charged into the fray and slowly pushed back the forces of DunBroch before coming face to face with Lord Fergus.

The two men met in the center of the battle. Their men made an opening in the field as the two Lords fought it out in a duel. Despite the raging fight around them, the combat between the two powerful men echoed through the battlefield. The Lord Fergus of DunBroch proved to be the victor as the Lord Rul'Bar fell lifeless to the ground.

Some of surviving men of Rul'Bar fled to the safety of the forests with riders on their tail. Most simply dropped their weapons and surrendered on the spot. A few were restrained as they tried fighting their way out.

"Well, that's the end of that then. That's one clan out for the count." The Witch said. She stood and patted her dress clean of dirt and grass before wobbling off back into the forest. "I'm getting too old for this."

"For what?" The Crow squawked. "Getting off from yer chair and walking?"

"Want to see how far I can throw ya, ye damn bird?" The Witch glared. She quickly brushed it off after a moment of silence between the two. She pondered as she walked through the forest. "It's just hard to keep up with all the action that's happening here. There's aught to be another way to see all these for ma old bones. Things have been getting very hectic recently."

"Makes you wonder who's gonna win in the end huh?" The Crow asked from his perch. "There are a few players in the game left."

"Bah! That matters mean little to me." The Witch brushed off the question. "I care more for who is worthy of carryin the crown. In the end it's gonna take more than strength to bring this land to one. The last Kingdom thought the same but others made a big mess out of it. It makes me wonder how this one would soon turn out."

"After the mess YOU made you mean?" The Crow badgered.

The Witch replied with a snap of the fingers. The Crow was carried by its feet then turned upside down. He floated in front of the Witch and was hit hard on the side with her cane. The Crow was launched high above the air and disappeared into the forest. A faint thud was heard a few seconds later.

"Homerun." The Witch said with a smirk before vanishing into the woods.