NorseQuest (A Norse Xianxia)

0~0~0

With the conversation's script writ out in your mind's eye, you begin in earnest. Rolling your neck in a stretch, you feign a yawn all while keeping a careful eye on Skavidr's face. "I like to get to know my potential workers before I hire them, you see, and so I'd like to hear your story."

He tilts his head to the side as he lifts his drink to his lips, eyes narrowing from beyond the brim of the cup, "My story?"

"Yeah," you nod into a shrug, "Where you're from, why you came to the Hading, that sort of thing."

"Ah, I see," understanding dawns in his eye as his head bobs up and down. Setting his drink down, he clears his throat with a light cough and settles in to tell his tale, whoever long or short it may be, "I was born in Rogaland, in a small village called Kurtskeld." Rogaland? Is he a spy for freaking Heljarskinn?! That... That wasn't what you saw coming, not at all. "Not much happened there, but when word came down that the King was preparing for war and I learned who he was planning on fighting, I decided that I wanted to be on the winning team," he shoots you a large shining grin and a clever wink that would have stolen a maiden's heart, "The Valley of Crowned-Barrows was the logical place to go in search of a worthy warrior to follow."

...The Valley of Crowned-Barrows? Is he talking about the Hading?

'I...' Blackhand hums to himself as he strokes his hairless chin, 'I seem to remember that being an old name for the Hading, but only the oldest graybeards I knew growing up called it that and not even they knew why they did, simply that their father and their father's fathers knew it by that name.'

Regardless of what Skavidr calls the Hading, what also catches your ear is that he's, well, he's not lying, per se, but he's not telling the truth either. While it isn't clear what, exactly, he's not being entirely truthful about, you imagine that he's not fibbing about his birthplace. He probably was, in fact, born in a place called Kurtskeld, which is likely in Rogaland.

Pursing your lips as Skavidr finishes his story, you move on to the next line in the script, "What do you hope to get out of working for me?"

He smiles big and wide as his fingers drum against the table. Especially eager to answer this question, he launches the ship with vim and vigor, "I wish to serve a rising star! I wish to wet my blade in the blood of their enemies and reap the benefits being their warrior brings!"

That... Is almost entirely truthful. He does want to serve a rising star. He does want to spill blood and earn glory from being in the service of a rising star. What isn't nearly so clear, however, is if he's talking about you or not.

Nodding to yourself, you turn your vision inwards to where Blackhand watches, 'Well, what's your advice on what to do with him?'

'You wish for my advice?' Blackhand cracks a grin, playful light dancing across his eyes, 'Kill the bastard, take whatever he's using to send messages, and use it in his stead.'

That... Well, it's not a bad idea at all. Certainly not something you'd normally come up with, but it is an idea. It's not what you were hoping Blackhand would say, but it's close enough.

A frown cross your lips as you feign a sigh, "I'm sorry, Skavidr, but I can't hire you."

Like someone had strung weights to the corners of his mouth, his smile drops from his face. Brows digging a deep crevice on his forehead, he leans in. "I... I don't understand. Why can't you hire me?"

"I asked an ancestor's spirit for advice and he said that it would be a bad idea to hire you."

The flat stare that greets your answer tells you all you need to know of Skavidr's thoughts on the matter. "If that's the case," he grunts, clearly not believing you for an instant, "then why go through all this," he waves a hand between you and him as he huffs, "pageantry? Why not just tell me, straight up, why you couldn't hire me?"

Scrambling for an answer, you latch onto the first good response you find, "I wanted to see if I could figure out why the spirit said you'd be a bad fit."

"And?" He keeps pressing you, not relenting for a moment, "What did you see that confirmed the spirit's words?"

You lift your chin and look him in the eye, "I don't have to tell you anything."

That, however, is the wrong thing to say—though, perhaps, there wasn't a right thing to say at all.

Roaring with eyes aglow, Skavidr leaps to his feet with such ferocity that he sends the bench flying into the wall. Slamming a hand against the table, all eyes dart to him and you as he speaks his ire through clenched teeth, "I call bullshit, Halla Sunshine! If you truly had good reason, you would speak them freely! To think that I wanted to be in your service," he scoffs, looking at you with such disgust and hate that you almost believe him. Shaking his head like a tree caught in a storm, he grabs his weapons from where they hang on the wall and makes his way to the house's entrance. With a thick wad of spit as his parting message, he steps beyond the boundary and disappears into the night.

Stigmar—who had leapt to his feet the moment Skavidr's hands touched his weapons—looks between you and the empty doorway with confusion on his face. "What was that about?"

You shrug, "Guess I set him off?"

Stigmar returns your shrug as the hall slowly returns to feasting.

Either way, you reckon that won't be the last time you see Skavidr.

(Skavidr has left the crew)
0~0~0
Bad Luck
The clouds rolled in without warning.

Great, heavy sheets of rain batter against sea and ship alike as you grit your teeth in the roaring storm. As the howling wind deafens your ears, you grip the rudder with such force that you half-fear it breaking. Wood creaks as the ship is tossed to and fro, crew bracing with each man-height wave crashing against the Wavedancer.

One moment, the sky was clear and birds were singing. Then, the birds stopped and the air smelt of thunder. Mere heartbeats later, the storm descended like an angry God.

Lightning whips across the horizon, crossing the gap between sky and earth in an instant. Fish die in droves as thunder strikes the waters and pummels your ears. Sail long having been pulled up, you're relying entire on the efforts of your crew to keep the ship in motion.

To stop is to sink and with the storm this fierce and the falling fog this thick, there's no hope of making it to shore.

You'll have to ride the waves if you want to have a chance at survival.

(I need 2 Sailing checks (17 dice), 1 to not get thrown completely off-course and the other to not capsize. I'll also need a Management roll (16 dice) to keep track of crew and cargo in the storm. Good luck, you may spend Reward Dice)
0~0~0

AN: Some funky happenings going on here

This isn't so much a vote as it is an opportunity for you to spend Reward Dice and to make these rolls. I'll give you folks, oh, 3 hours to handle it, though I'll call it early if you feel good about it.