NorseQuest (A Norse Xianxia)

AN: It's slow work, getting back into the swing of things, but I'm making good progress. I recently got a new job, which is eating into my free time a fair amount.

I also wrote this on my phone, so apologies for anything odd.

0~0~0
Speaking with Kurt
"How do I 'Sword Step'?" Kurt repeats the question back to you, a furrow to his brow and a puzzled quirk to his head. "Is that what it's called?"

"Sword Stepping, to be specific, but yeah." He nods at your words as a hand gently rests upon the pommel at his hip.

"Well," he chews on a fingernail as he considers your question. A gust of wind grabs a handful of fallen leaves, sending the bundle swirling into the air, "I do it like this."

It all happens in a single moment. A brief flash of three frozen images, all overlayed and mixed together, is all you see before it's over.

The drawing of the sword. The motion of the sword. The line trailing through leaves. There is no before, no after, and certainly no during; there simply is.

The sword returns to its sheathe as a dozen half-leaves flutter down to the ground.

"And that's how you Sword Step!" Kurt turns to you with his hands on his hips and a big smile on his face.

"Impressive demonstration, but," Kurt's smile fades, "it doesn't really explain how it works. Like, how do you 'access' it?"

"Well," he sucks down a breath, "I guess I…" he rubs a hand against his face, a light hum escaping his throat, "I sort of remember the first time I used it, how exhausted I was, too tired to think about what I was doing, just that I was doing it." He trails off for a few seconds, eyes fixed to the middle distance, before, with a sudden jostle, he finds himself again, "A-after that, I just sort of 'step back mentally', you know?"

Step back mentally, eh? That sounds like something you could do.

However, as you thank Kurt for his advice and set to practicing on your own, you can't quite manage to 'step back mentally'.

No matter what you do, you can't get your mind to settle down. Every time there's a stretch of silence, of that expansive nothingness, where you start to feel the odd tingling at the edge of self, it vanishes as your thoughts turn down yet another odd path.

Sometimes it's some forging idea the chirping of a bird drew up from your mind's well. Sometimes it's contemplation over the bird that made the noise. Sometimes you find yourself fixating on the sensation or even the emptiness itself.

No matter what it is, though, it still manages to chase the Sword Step away.

Damnation.

0~0~0
speaking with Halfdan
The wind plays through your hair as you soar high across the skies. With your crimson wings of flame, crossing the distance between your home and Halfdan's is as easy as breathing. The most it takes is a minor trickle of orthstirr to keep the fire burning, but nothing that would make fighting difficult should combat catch you.

'I'm beginning to remember something,' Blackhand muses as you gently sway through the clouds. 'Ironjaw once said, as we made ready our weapons for something I've long since forgotten, that a man is only as strong as his weapons. I, as I am wont to do, called bullshit on that and pointed out how I didn't need weapons to fill someone's throat with lava.'

"How did he answer?"

'He chuckled, winked, and raised a single wagging finger my way. 'Ah', he said, 'but that is just another weapon, no?''

Blackhand never really talks about Ironjaw, out of a mixture of, as he says, 'not wanting to ruin the surprise' and also because he just isn't certain which memories are true and which are mental fabrications. 'Mental fabrications' aren't something you really want to think about, on account of how valuable Blackhand's memories can be and how much you've come to rely on them. The thought that Blackhand could be wrong is something you're well aware of, but it isn't pleasant no matter how practical.

Regardless, Blackhand doesn't speak much of Ironjaw, so you're eager to see how much you can pry out of him now that he's feeling a bit more loose with information.

"What kind of a person is Ironjaw?"

'Ironjaw...' Blackhand's tone turns wistful as his attention anchors on the horizon, 'Before I can tell you any true details about Ironjaw, I have a pair of facts to cover.' Blackhand takes a breath as he collects his thoughts, 'The first is that, when one climbs to the heights of power, there is always something different about them, deep down. Your father was a logistics savant. I didn't learn what giving up meant until I was already a man. No matter what, there's something about them that makes them stand out, that makes them able to reach heights unmatched. For Ironjaw?' Blackhand chuckles, a sly smile on his face, 'there are two facets that put a shine in his eye, but I'll get to those in a moment.'

"You'd said that there were two things you had to cover, yeah," a slight frown crosses your face as you sigh, minor annoyance rising inside.

'The second is that stagnation is inevitable, when one reaches the true heights of power. Eventually, you will hit a point where you can't go on, because there is nowhere else to go. When you realize your goals, when you achieve your ambitions, is when this happens. You lose your drive, your desire to improve, you ability to go on. Your story ends, and that's that.' Uncomfortable silence reigns as Blackhand trails off into a cough, 'Ironjaw, though, is someone who is immune to that facet of reality.'

"How?" Your brows furrow as you speak, "If it is as inevitable as you say it is, then how can he keep going?"

'That plays into the first facet, which I suppose I'll get to now,' after a clearing of the throat, Blackhand does just that, 'Ironjaw is, at his core, someone who despises doing what he's told. If he is going to do something, he does it on his terms or not at all. There is no quicker way to make an enemy of him than to try and order him about.'

"You said there were two, right?" Not to lessen Ironjaw's accomplishments or anything, but that doesn't really seem like it would be enough on its own to reach the 'heights of power'. Surely, there's something else that adds to or amplifies it, right?

'I believe that Steinarr said he trained under Ironjaw, but was unable to learn his martial styles, yes?'

That's a non-sequitur, but... "I think so, yeah. Why?"

'Where Steinarr understood logistics, efficiency, Ironjaw has a fundamental grasp on the underpinnings of reality that beats mine by a country mile. He also, unlike Steinarr, is able to impart that knowledge on others, though, as I can attest, rarely does one glean any actual information from his words. But Steinarr's natural aptitude colors everything about him, I remember when he was young, how he'd get so frustrated with his siblings when they decided to do things, as he put it, 'incorrectly.' He just wanted to do things as quickly, as efficiently, as possible, because that's how he is as a person. He is not someone who stops to smell the roses. He is always doing something, because otherwise would be inefficient and though Steinarr is many things, that is never one of them. Ironjaw, though, refuses to do things at others' pace. He moves at his own speed, by his own will, or not at all.'

"Blackhand," a sickly feeling deep in your gut proceeds your words, "you said that everyone at the top has something fundamentally different about them. So… So what's mine?"

'You never stop asking questions, not when you're answered and never when you're not. Is that enough to bring you to the true heights of power? Maybe, maybe not, but there's only one way to find out.'

There's little time to consider his words, for you soon arrive at your destination.

As the tree-flush forests fall away and healthy fields of growing grains take their place, Halfdan's now-lakeside farm unveils itself before your eyes. In the years since your duel with Hooknails and the consequences thereof, Halfdan's farm has underwent several significant changes. The most apparent of these changes is none other than the massive crater named for yourself: Hallujordinsarit, 'Halla's earth-wound'.

Having filled with rain and melt-water over the course of many months, the Hallujordinsarit is now a crater-lake and so now needs draining. As such, the men of Halfdansby have carved a shallow-yet-growing streambed into the earth and linked it with the river Hadingsa—the river which connects all Hading Valley farms through a network of tributaries. With the crater-lake now connected to the river and sea beyond it, a minor population of fish has emerged from the waters of the Hallujordinsarit and provided a bounty of food for those willing to fish it.

That's exactly the scene before your eyes as you descend from the skies: a collection of faces both familiar and not mingling on the lakeshores. Their hands are occupied with lengths of wood carved into familiar shapes. The rods lazily trail fishing line across the waters, waiting in ambush for any unsuspecting fish to try its luck.

The fiery glare dancing on the water gives you away long before you could announce yourself. Palm-shadowed eyes turn towards the heavens as hands dart to ever-ready weapons only to relax as they recognize your face—though you struggle to place more than a few in turn. What does stand out, though, is the lack of Halfdan among them.

Looking to the hillside house, you imagine you know well where Halfdan is at. The only question is if you want to spend some time getting to know the unfamiliar faces or if you just want to head straight to Halfdan.

[ ] Get to know the unfamiliar faces
[ ] Meet with Halfdan right away

0~0~0

AN: I've decided to go ahead and post what I've got here. I'm not sure I'm quite entirely ready to get back in the saddle, so to speak, but I'm definitely getting closer.

No moratorium.