The fiercest Mother

[Fenrir13]

Yrsa stood in the front of the dragonship sailing into the port of Rhavona with a big smile on her face. They had intercepted a small fleet of pirates and captured their ships, while their prisoners would be made slaves. Most importantly, she wasn´t wounded, alltough she had been one of the fiercest and most daring fighters on their sight. That was due to the good chainmail she was wearing. It kept her safe even when she was hewing with two axes, as she normally did. Yrsa took a look at the harbor, she hoped her son was not in sight, while she did want to teach him the ways of war she kinda kept him shelter from the harsh reality of it. He would come to experience that for himself soon enough.
Rhavona was a big city by her standards, built out of stone in the southern style. It was also much warmer than her homeland, but she had grown used to it. Yrsa knew she had the best job for a she-warrior one could hope for, fighting for the emperor always was lucrative, even though she did not know why he held on to this stretch of land. Something about their religion she had heard. The tomb of some great sage or priest was here.

[Virgo]

Leif knelt behind the parapet of a nearby rooftop, gazing with childish fascination at the scene playing out around his mother. His figured that his childish little frame could not be glimpsed in a position so far removed from the main scene.

He had followed his mother discretely that morning as she left their lavish albeit temporary dwelling deeper into the heart of Rhavona. He understood full-well that she had warned him against trekking too far from home and that she desired that he not bear witness to the realities of her work, but, predictably, his childish curiosity had gotten the better of him; it had yanked him to a position directly across the road from where the kingdom's newest naval newest prisoners were being rounded up.

He glimpsed his mother occasionally turning in his general direction. Each time, he would dive down beneath the roof's ledge and pray that he had not been noticed.

[Virgo]

(Mods, please let this one go through. I tried once a few hours ago, and my message did not appear here. I am the intended recipient of this RP, and no one else besides Fenrir should post here. Thank you.)

Leif knelt behind the parapet of a nearby rooftop, gazing with childish fascination at the scene playing out around his mother. His figured that his childish little frame could not be glimpsed in a position so far removed from the main scene.

He had followed his mother discretely that morning as she left their lavish albeit temporary dwelling deeper into the heart of Rhavona. He understood full-well that she had warned him against trekking too far from home and that she desired that he not bear witness to the realities of her work, but, predictably, his childish curiosity had gotten the better of him; it had yanked him to a position directly across the road from where the kingdom's newest naval newest prisoners were being rounded up.

He glimpsed his mother occasionally turning in his general direction. Each time, he would dive down beneath the roof's ledge and pray that he had not been noticed.

[Fenrir13]

Yrsa watched over the slaves as they were paraded through the streets and brought to some barracks near the market were they were to be sold. As long as Leif stayed on the rooftops it seemed like he would be safe from her finding out about his presence. The slave market surely was no place for a child. With bad luck he might even end up a captive, espacially as a boy with a foreign appearance. After work Yrsa was invited to have a drink with her comrades, but declined, taking her duties as a mother quite serious and she had a young boy to look after. In her absence the neighbours were supposed to look if he was fine or not, but the Norse woman did not know whether they were actually good guardians. Oh well, as long as he did not venture out into the city on his own someone would surely make sure he stayed out of trouble. Eager to be reunited with the boy she took quick steps towards home.

(How old is Leif and how does he look? No offense, but that is kinda important to me.)

[Virgo]

(Leif is eleven like we discussed; short and scrawny in stature; light blonde hair and dusted with freckles. Sorry about that; it's important to me too, but I was posting the same thing a second time, so I forgot to think).

Leif was hardly aware of his mother's work schedule because he hardly had any memories of her being at liberty to discuss it with him. He had no idea how early she would be returning home to check on him. He continued watching, transfixed by the train of shackled slaves being forced away from the docks and down the cobbled road below.

Remaining hidden for a brief moment longer, he thought of how he could best proceed. Unfortunately, he was not particularly athletic or adept at scaling buildings, and, with establishments of uneven heights and distances apart, he could not reliably traverse the city solely by roof. He had only been able to ascend to his current height because of a wooden ladder located on the opposite side of the building from the docks.

He followed the small caravan of slaves after descending the ladder, listening to the occasional rowdy scuffle or protest to keep tabs on its location as he followed a parallel road a block down from the shoreline beside which it was marching.

When he approached where he remembered the slave trading center was, he stopped and ascended yet another chiseled work of granite--this a story taller than the one prior. He watched as the slaves sauntered through an eager mob of auction participants at the mercy of the pointy spears of ironclad guards.

So embroiled in the madness became he that he did not notice that his mother had broken away from the crowd and resigned from her duties for the remainder of the day, heading home to find him missing.

[Fenrir13]

(No worries, I need to describe Yrsa in more detail, too. She is a tall, athletic Norsewoman with long blonde hair that she keeps in a braided ponytail, with fierce blue eyes. She wears trousers and tunics like a man, and usually chainmail, too. And she has a typical norse helmet. In battle she carries two large axes (not really historical accurate, but I am imagine her to be a bit of a berserker) )

Yrsa knocked on the door of her home in excitement. "Hey, Leif, I am home!", she said, still looking very much forward to meeting her son after long days at sea. As no answer came from inside her smile faded. "Leif?", she asked and knocked again, this time louder. Still no answer. "Where are you boy?", she wondered with her back against the closed door. Surely he was just over by the neighbours and playing with the other kids? She wasn´t sure, though. Quickly she knocked at the neighbours door and found out that they had seen the boy leave the house and running in the direction of the harbour. "That boy, I am going to kill him!", the she warrior growled, but right now Yrsa was more concerned with his safety. Better to check the slave market first, that was the worst case scenario...at least if he got himself caught by some kind of manhunter she now had the coin to buy him back!

(I think I am going to bed for a while! Hope we can continue, soon.)

[Virgo]

(That's fine. It's only 7:30 where I am, and I tend to stay up all night. I'll probably still be awake. If not, tomorrow will yet come.)

Yet, there the boy was, perched comfortably above the slave marketplace without a thought in his clouded mind that anything was amiss. Lost in the enticing voice of the young yet talented auctioneer reading off bid after bid, the tens of minutes drifting by seemed to approach zero in span.

At one point, a particularly stocky and muscled slave, who he was sure would topple everyone in his vicinity if not for the finely crafted steel anchoring his writs and ankles together, remained on the stage for quite some time as a subject of avid contest between most of the more wealthy onlookers.

"Five thousand fifty-eight going once! Five thousand fifty-eight going twice! Sold!"

That final word cut through the air particularly resoundingly--moreso than it had during the past many sales. Somehow, it stole the little boy from his stupor, and he glanced about the crowd absently; of note immediately, however, was that his mother's towering form--towering over most men and therefore easily distinguishable in nearly any crowd--was absent.

Damn! he thought, dread quaking through his veins. I'm going to lose any and all privileges for a month!

Or, so he thought.

That meant his precious independence as a child by day, which he was not willing to sacrifice. Forgetting about the bargaining still taking place in the trading plaza below, he quickly scaled back down from the rooftop and began to scurry toward home, hoping that he was not too late. Little did he know that, indeed, he was far too late and would soon be face-to-face with his mother in the caught-red-handed fashion.

[Fenrir13]

(Minor detail, I don´t think she towers quite over men...)

Yrsa was desperatly searching for her little boy, whenever she saw children being sold on the slave market she anxiously scanned their faces, yet luckily Leif was not among them.
Over time she grew weary, yet there were so many places to look! Sighting she sat down on a bench for some moments, trying to rest a bit, as she was still tired from the journey home.
Now through circumstance Leif left his secure position above the streets and passed through the crowd just when his mother was getting up again. "Halt! Leif, is that you?", she shouted and quickly made her way through the crowd, pushing some people aside. "Where were you, you little rascal?", she asked her son angrily, turning him around and shaking him a bit. Except for a few swats she had never spanked her son, but now she had half a mind to take him over her knee here and now!

[Virgo]

(I said that b/c I read that the average height of a man from those times was really only around 5'7 or something similar. People were not very tall. Plus, I'm pretty sure that people from Scandinavia have long been taller on average than those from lands further south.)

Leif was doing his best to scramble through the audience undetected. His heart was rushing, his pulse hastening to a gallop. Luckily, it seemed that many were too entranced by the slave sales to pay him any mind.

He beamed to himself, going so far as to slow down somewhat. He hardly desired to be out of breath upon returning home.

Besides, he was going to make it! He felt halfway there already! If only...

"Leif, is that you?"

He froze, his veins dropping precipitously in temperature until they were more frigid than the arctic winds of a Norse winter. The voice that had so pierced the air was distinct--feminine, razor-sharp, and accented to sound distinct from that of a typical Rhavonan.

He could hardly bear to turn to confront his immediate suspicions, yet that he did. Of course, one way or another, he saw none other than his mother shoving her way through the crowd toward him, disregarding the grunts and murmurs of those whose forms were shoved aside.

She reached him rapidly before he had the chance to further react. Next, his vision was shaking up and down as he looked on horrified. His fair countenance flushed with embarrassment.

"Oh, hey there, Mother, I was..." he began.

He felt the shaking die down and recovered his breath.

"I was just doing some, well, exploring, I guess."

He could not bear to meet her icy gaze.

[Fenrir13]

(Yeah, alright then ^^)

"Look at me boy! We had made clear rules that you are to stay in our neighborhood and not venture to the harbor and espacially not the slave market.", Yrsa said, still holding her son by his shoulders. She did not like having to disciplin him, but could she really let him of the hook this time? Angrily she guided her son out of this part of town before adressing him again. "Why are you doing this? I don´t want to have to punish you right after we haven´t seen us for such a long time. I was so happy to be back, yet you spoiled all of this!", the she warrior lectured, clearly dissapointed.