NorseQuest (A Norse Xianxia)

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Talking with Solrun
Under the watch of skyborne, screaming seagulls circling overhead, you step once more ashore in Asvir. The pebbles of Hading-beaches greet the return of its most proud daughter as you, in turn, greet the crowd that's gathered for your return. Cheers rise from a hundred throats as the whaleflesh is carried out and laid on display. With winter foodstocks secured by a voyage most successful, you'll be in the praise-songs of the Valley for years to come.

Regardless of the praise laid upon your shoulders and the prestige already joining hands with your orthstirr, there's a certain someone you wish to visit with before you return to your home in the Valley. It has been some time since last you saw Solrun Far-Eyes, as some in the Hading call her by, and an eagerness rises in your heart as your thoughts turn to rectifying that error.

You may also have a few questions to ask her, but that's certainly nothing new with regards to yourself. Besides, Solrun is a genuine font of knowledge! Who wouldn't ask her questions when given the chance? Not you, that's for sure!

As you know the way to Solrun's tent by heart, it takes you no time at all to trace the path trodden many hundreds of times over the many years. Solrun's tent sits where it always does this time of year, in the outskirts of where Asvir meets the Hading trees proper. Not too far from Asvir, but not too close at the same time.

The sound of voices from within gives you pause as you stop at the tentflap entrance. One of the voices clearly belongs to your mentor while the other—though vaguely familiar—is unfortunately a mystery. It sounds like Solrun is in the middle of a meeting with someone, should you just come back later? You wouldn't want to interrupt a potentially delicate ritual, after all!

"Do come in, Halla, there's no use in being hesitant when I already know you're there!" The choice of whether to leave or not is snatched from you by the weather fingers of your mentor. Offering a silent shrug to nobody in particular, you do as she asks and enter with a sweep of your arm casting the cloth flap aside.

The inside of Solrun's tent is, more or less, the same as last you saw. Jars, jugs, and all kind of myriad pots hold thousands of different ingredients, materials, and all manner of sundry. Two woman—one old, the other young—sit around a cauldron suspended over a small firepit dug into the ground. Solrun stirs the pot as she gestures you inside with a welcoming wave. "I was just helping Lydia here," she nods to the young woman, who offers a nervous wave, "with a certain problem she's having." The sparkle of an idea shines in Solrun's eye as she smiles and turns back to Lydia, "Lydia, dear, would you mind telling my apprentice what your problem is while I prepare?"

Lydia frowns, clearly not especially enthused by the idea, but sighs and nods. "I..." her voice is harder than her otherwise soft appearance lead you to believe, "I've just got the worst luck with men!" She throws her hands into the air as she groans and slumps in her chair, "Every single time I try and find a husband, they either die or fall in love with some other woman! Every. Damn. Time!"

"She came here to find a cure," Solrun adds from where she rummages through the stock scattered across the tent, "which I've got..." Solrun's eyes narrow as the tip of her tongue emerges from behind her lips, "Here!" She grins triumphant as she pops the seal on a jar and makes her way back to the cauldron. Upending the jar, she dumps the contents into the boiling water while adding three sprigs of Baldur's chin—a pure-white herb commonly used as an activator for helpful potions and the like—after it. After a few moments of stirring, a frown passes over her lips as she looks from side to side. Failing to find whatever she's looking for, she sighs and waves you over, "Halla, how's your heat resistance?"

Your eyes narrow with your answer, "Good, why do you ask?"

"Well," Solrun grimaces as an embarrassed flush rises on her cheeks, "I seem to have misplaced my tongs—I suspect I left them at your house—and need to fish the necklace out."

Eyeing Solrun for a long while, you eventually shake your head and sigh, "Yeah, sure, I'll get it out for you." Rolling back your sleeve as Solrun smiles her appreciation, you dunk your hand into the boiling water. Fortunately, thanks to your fiery lineage, the popping bubbles of steam and water do naught but slightly redden your skin as you grope around for the 'necklace'.

Eventually, your fingers brush up against a length of beaded string and you swiftly pluck it from the cauldron. Water drips from beads as you hold it up to the light, your curiosity getting the best of you. From an initial, cursory glance, it seems that the beads are made of whalebone while the string is little more than yarn. Nodding to yourself, you offer it to Solrun who takes it with a smile on her face.

"This necklace," Solrun says as she gently cradles the beaded string, "will return your luck back to neutral. In order to achieve this, though, you must wear the necklace at all hours of day and night for the next three months. You'll know the magic worked when the bones turn to dust."

Lydia almost leaps for joy at the good news. The only reason she doesn't is that she still needs Solrun to put the necklace on her, though it's a close thing with how hard she's vibrating in her seat. The moment Solrun's fingers finish clasping the string, Lydia springs to her feet with her hands in the air and a great big smile on her face.

"Oh thank you, thank you, thank you!" She cries, grabbing ahold of Solrun as she draws the older woman into a tight hug. Solrun sighs and rolls her eyes, but still returns the warm embrace with a pat on the back and a slight smile.

"You're very much welcome, child," Solrun says as she extricates herself from the younger woman's grasp. "Now, go find a boy to make yours."

Lydia smiles as she nods, promising to do just that, and almost skips out the tentflap swaying in the breeze. As she departs, a certain someone makes his presence known.

'She'd make a good wife for one of your men,' Blackhand notes as Solrun chuckles, watching Lydia leave with a fond smile on her face. After a moment's thought on the matter, as Solrun returns the cauldron and other ingredients back to their proper places, you find yourself agreeing with his sentiment.

"So, Halla," Solrun says as she waves for you to take Lydia's now-deserted seat, which you, of course, do, "what questions have you for me today?"

You chuckle and scratch at your cheek as Solrun merely sips from a fresh cup of tea, "Aw, well..." Something about this whole situation strikes you as, well, odd, and gives you pause. "Hey, Solrun, you're acting a bit odd, is something wrong?"

Solrun's smile fades with a sigh, "It's nothing to concern yourself with, really. It's just that," she frowns as she runs her finger across the rim of her cup, "well, the closer I near to my end of days, the more I find myself missing Kolla. While I can see her whenever I so desire," she gestures to her eyes with a lazy hand, "that isn't any replacement for her actually being here."

Well, that just won't do! Leaning forward, you meet her eyes as you lay a hand on her knee, "Solrun, you're already staying with me in the winter. You can come by and say 'hi' for as long as you like, whenever you want."

Solrun swallows the lump in her throat and smiles, "Thank you, Halla, really. That's very generous of you." You shrug and wave it off as she laughs, "Now, then, what questions have you for me today?"

Grinning, you launch right into the first question loitering in your mind. "Are there any uses for fylgjur besides fighting? Specifically, the uses a Seer might have for them? Most of what I know I learned from warriors like Steinarr, so I fear I may be missing something fundamental."

Solrun nods as she taps her cup against her knee, "Ah, the fylgja, an ever-useful tool." Nodding to herself once more, she smiles and continues, "The fylgja is a method by which you can carry something without having to carry it yourself. An example of this is if there's some dangerous substance, such as odr, that could reap havoc if it were to come into contact with one such as us. Fortunately, as fylgjur are creatures of inherent chaos, they are capable of riding the waves of odr with little difficulty."

Brows rising at that little tidbit, you quickly file it away for later consideration as you move on to your next question, "What are the fylgjur of the other people in the Valley that have them?"

Solrun frowns ever-so-slightly, "In recent years, I've seen a slight uptick in people coming to have their fylgjur revealed." There's a flicker of humor in her eye as she chuckles, "I suspect that a certain someone had something to do with that." You offer a grin and a shrug as her chuckles settle down with a sigh, "As a result, however, I've seen a lot of fylgjur go by and no longer can recall all the fylgjur of the valley. Regardless," she nods to herself as she finds her footing, "Dorri Rattlespear has an otter, Logi Firehair bears a salamander, Framarr Heavyhand's is an ant, Audrikr Fishfighter's fylgja is a fox, your brother Eric has a beaver, Nainn Rotting has a wolf as does Heima Smiles, while Hymir Evershade has a lynx. Those are all fylgjur that I revealed myself," she clarifies as you note names and details down, "so it is near-certain that there are others in the Valley that I didn't reveal."

"Alright," you mutter absentmindedly as you note down all that information, "next question!"

Solrun chuckles and sips her tea, a fond light in her eyes, "Next question indeed."

"I..." The smile falls from your face as you realize what the next question on your mental list is, "A friend of mine is struggling with nidheart, the kind that can't be solved by banishing a spirit. I know that seidr can't solve non-spirit-based nidheart, but is there anything at all I can do to help?"

Solrun sighs as she stares into the hearthfire, "Halla, if I knew how to solve nidheart, I would tell you the secrets in an instant. Alas," she slumps into her chair as she sighs yet harder, "there is no spell or potion or poultice I know that can soothe the terrors of the soul. I would bow down before the Seeress who could cure that, for they would be my better in every way possible."

"There's really nothing I can do?" Your brows furrow a deep trench on your head as you grasp for any way you can help.

Solrun tries a soft smile, "The most you or I can do is be there for them when they need it, even if they themselves don't know they do."

"I'lll," you take a deep breath as you nod, "I'll keep that in mind, thanks." You're eager to swap to a different topic, but, unfortunately... "I'm, uh, I'm having a meeting with my family that I desperately need to be as private as possible—which I'd very much like you to be at, by the way—and I need some lessons on privacy wards if at all possible."

Solrun nods as she sets her tea cup to the side. Leaning in, she takes your hands in hers as her eyes lock your gaze, "Halla, child, I will certainly be there, just as I'll always be here for you to rely upon. I'll need some time to prepare what I know on privacy wards, but I'll teach you all I know as we make secret this meeting of yours."

"Thank you, Solrun," a wave of relief washes across your soul as you breathe with shocking ease. The weight of forgotten tension falls away as Solrun mirrors your smile with her own.

"Of course, dear child," she releases your hands as she leans back and retakes her tea. "Now then, shall we move on to other matters," humor sparks in her gaze as she warms the drink with a snap of the fingers, "such as how you're doing in the challenge I've laid before you?"

"The bridge and burls?" A smile splits your face in two as you leap upon a happier topic, "I'm pretty sure I've figured it out!"

A brow arches as Solrun sips her tea, "Oh? Do tell, dear child." As you oblige your teacher, her other brow rises to greet the other high on her head. "That..." She laughs as her tea cup clinks against the table at her side, "I'm not sure why I'm surprised! You've always been a bright child," wiping a fond tear from her eye, she shakes her head and collects herself. "That is near exactly correct, child. Or, should I say," her mouth quirks up at the corners, "Seeress."

Your mouth hangs open as realization washes over you like a tidal wave does the land. You... You did it!

You, Halla Sunshine, are now a full-fledged Seeress!

(Your training has finished and you are now a Seeress in truth.)
(+80 Orthstirr)
(+1 Drengskapr)
(Feat: Whalefall Feasting - +2 Orthstirr a year)
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The Dorri Situation
Torches flicker as they coat the ceilings in their ashen hue, the profit of the whale carcess having not yet made its way down to the Underhouse. Bereft of the fortunes of the dwarves, you're forced to dirty all surfaces of the Underhouse with cinder and soot alike. Once pure now soiled, it will take a long time to clean it all. However dirty the Underhouse is, though, it will still serve well for the purpose you have in mind. After all, you don't need a clean room to hold a meeting such as this.

Seven souls gather in the torchlit underhall as half set to making it private and secure. While Abjorn, Eric, Asva, and Stigmar wait in silence—the only break in the quietude the light conversations that spring up whenever siblings meet—you, Sten, and Solrun work to make it as unknowable as possible.

In lockstep with Solrun, you follow the sweeping, circular motions of her arms as she molds magic to her will. "Privacy wards can be quite difficult to construct," Solrun begins her lesson with Sten providing a background spellsong, "as, in order to make the strongest spells, one needs to have experienced privacy from both in and out."

"It's the out part of that that's the tricky part, isn't it?" It doesn't take a genius of your caliber to put that together.

"Indeed it is, my fellow Seeress," no matter how many times she calls you that, the surge of pride it draws from your soul never seems to diminish. You'll be riding that high for a long time, you reckon. "Fortunately, I was able to purchase one off of a passing skald while you were having your latest adventure, so I have that aspect covered."

Reaching into one of her many belt pouches, she plucks free a small, thumb-thick and corked ceramic vial. Popping the cork with her teeth, she lets the sparkle-filled substance slop out into the woven work of secret magic riding upon the stale air.

The moment the Experience greets the air, the scent of fresh rain fills your nose as a sense of forlorn loneliness washes over you. The knowledge that your friends and family don't need you to have fun weighs heavily upon your shoulders as you grit your teeth to stop the tears. But just as quickly as it came, it vanishes into the layers of spell string binding across the air.

"To make matters worse," Solrun continues as she lays a silent hand on your shivering shoulder, not saying anything but simply providing a comforting presence, "privacy wards vary greatly in the way you make privacy. Is it by deafening ears? Blinding eyes? Covering skin? Or is it some other way, such as by telling all would-be-watchers to 'look away'?" Solrun shrugs as you master your emotions and school your face, "If one knows the soul they wish to keep unawares, they can even key the wards to them in particular. Of course," she continues with pursed lips, "all things can be countered and undone with time and effort. There is no 'silver arrow'. But, just as there is no perfect defense, there is no perfect attack, and by layering wards one can befuddle attacks for a very long time indeed."

After a few long minutes of magical work, you, Solrun, and Sten finish layering as many wards as you can think up over the thresholds of the Underhouse. Once Sten wraps up his song and joins the rest of the group, you can finally commence this familial conference. Mouth dry and heart pounding, you try your damndest to keep yourself calm. A misspoken word here could mean hours of confusion and a stutter might doom you all to death.

As Sten's song quiets and he pulls out a chair, Blackhand chuckles in the back of your mind. 'He was threatening the wind with all manner of horrible things if they should be so mischievous as to bring his words to his enemies, but the thing that truly struck fear into the heart of the wind was when he threatened to tell their parents of their misdeeds.'

Stifling a snort, you silently thank Blackhand for the humor in this most dire of moments. Taking a deep breath, you clear your throat and fix all those present with a fierce look, "Before I can tell you why I've gathered you here, I need you all to promise me that you'll listen before running off half-cocked."

Eyes narrow and arms cross from your eldest brothers, but they too add their voices to the chorus of confirmations that rise from your gathered family. After all, it's not like whatever you have to say is going to be that devastating, right?

Oh how wrong they are.

Swallowing the fear in your throat, you nod to yourself and continue following the speech plotted out in your mind, "There's no good way to put this, but I have fair reason to think that Dorri Rattlespear," you take a deep breath to calm your nerves, not trusting yourself to keep it straight, "that Dorri Rattlespear is behind the death of Steinarr."

In the dead silence that descends upon the gathered kin of Steinarr Hallsson, the only sound that can be heard is the pounding of a half-dozen hearts in six pairs of ears. Taking the opportunity for what it is—and thanking the Gods for small mercies—you fall upon the list of evidence that you've collected, "To find who was responsible for the raid, I sought the spirits for answers. They named Dorri Rattlespear as culprit. To make matters worse," you scowl as you fight the hate threatening to spill free of your heart, "it seems that Dorri and Drysalt are, if not allies, working together."

Solrun winces as she hears that name, but keeps to herself as Eric swallows the horror in his throat, "Is," he grits his teeth as the stone table shudders from his grip, "is Jarl Corpsemaker in on it?"

"He's not, as far as I'm aware," you shake your head as Eric breathes a heavy sigh of relief. "In fact, he came to the same conclusion as me."

"Well, I guess I know which side I'll be fighting for in the future," Eric chuckles, trying to find some levity in the situation as Sten leans in next, dawning realization in his face.

"Dorri's planning on fighting Corpsemaker?" Sten frowns as he learns that, the nods of those in the know confirming it, "When word got out that I could make Steel, Dorri approached me to see if I knew how to break it. I couldn't help him, but I always did wonder what prompted that question." Sten bites at his lower lip. Dead, dry skin peels away as he shrugs, "Now I know, I suppose."

That's when Solrun speaks up with a heavy sigh, "I... Have something to admit. My father..." She swallows, looking rather small and vulnerable in her old age as her fingers drum a steady beat against the table, "My father was the man responsible for Drysalt's first rampage."

You're not sure what emotions that draws up from the well of your heart, but a usage of a calming charge ensures you'll never know. "And Hasvir Hadingshero killed him, and you hired Blackhand to kill him." Which, as goes unsaid, resulted in the death of your uncles and a lifelong enemy for you, your siblings, and your father.

Solrun swallows and ducks her head, a half-dozen pairs of eyes fixed on her, "I... I was young and angry and stupid. I-I wanted revenge for Runor's death a-and Framarr Crownsword, Dorri's father, offered to help me find the man who'd do it, i-in exchange for something I can't tell you."

"Can't," Sten's eyes burn with barely-subdued crimson fury as he turns his gaze on your once-teacher, his hand falling to the sword on his waist, "or won't?"

"I swore an oath to keep it secret," Solrun continues, shrinking under the burning gaze of once-friends. "However," this time, her eyes burn as she finds her footing and draws herself up to her full sitting height, "this is information that you will need."

"You don't have much life left in you, do you?" Asva speaks up for the first time, having kept quiet and merely listened up until now. "Breaking an oath now would probably kill you." That doesn't seem to be much of an issue to Asva, not with the revelations that had just been made.

"It would, you are right." Solrun nods as she stands up. Turning her gaze on you, the torches granting light to the Underhouse snuff out one by one as shadows choke the room and darkness drapes across her face, "Halla Sunshine, in exchange for the information I hold secret, I ask that you fulfill my last wish. Seek out Kolla and give her my blessing. Watch over her when I cannot and make certain her safety." She swallows, eyes gleaming with unspoken power as thunder crackles in the distance, "Will you do this, in exchange for that which I keep hidden?"

[ ] Accept her charge and doom Solrun to death
[ ] Refuse her charge and let her live

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AN: This was a very interesting update to write. I hope you enjoyed it!

No moratorium, but this will be the only update for today and, potentially, for tomorrow as well. This vote is impactful enough that I want everyone to be able to participate.