NorseQuest (A Norse Xianxia)
- Thread starter I.F. Ister
- Start date
- Original Fantasy Action
-
- Tags
- norse mythology (mythology) original xianxia cultivation western cultivation ask sirihand did your mother tell you anything? discussion pleases yggdrasil farming gloating gets people killed granary management hubris is a coward's word you will die norsemen do not die when they are killed the qm has a bad memory the qm is bad at math viking courtroom drama (legal drama) vikings
Winged One
Not the Simurgh
- Location
- definitely the ground
- Pronouns
- They/Them/It
Yes, but Halla read the Bible, so she knows Christians don't do that(well, they're not supposed to, anyway.
). She was even able to recognize him being about to go lethal on her in a spar as something unnatural for him.[X] Alectai
Even if he changes his vote, this is the sort of thing where his judgement is probably better than mine.
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What Could Have Been - Sons of the Frozen North (Non-Canon)
I.F. Ister
Fortifying The Thread
- Pronouns
- He/They
AN: I found another document from another prototype of NorseQuest that I decided to post today, as tomorrow is my birthday and I've got a special-ish thing in store for that.
0~0~0
"Father," he looked to me as the shore drew closer, our faering laden from a day spent fishing on the lake, "what does 'drengskapr' mean?"
I'd heard that word thrown around the cooking fire, when Father and Uncle Torsten shared tales of their youth with my brothers and I. It was something important, that much was obvious to my youthful ears, but I couldn't quite place its meaning amongst the dozens of other words they used.
Father pursed his lips and stroked his short beard, a deep black that I alone had inherited. The links of silver around his neck jingled as he nodded and made up his mind on the matter. He pulled his oars inside the boat, an action that I quickly mirrored.
"Drengskapr," there was a certain weight to his carefully considered words, a weight I never could quite match, "is what makes a man a drengr, and to be a drengr is what all men should aspire to be."
"And what is a drengr?"
"A drengr," he smiled as I asked, always ready to answer any questions my brothers or I had, "is a man you want by your side. He can be trusted and is loyal to the end. He is courageous and never gives up, not when faced with any threat or challenge. He is honorable and fair to friend, foe, and stranger alike. All of this and more are drengskapr, the workings of a drengr."
Father held up his hairy arms, heavy with corded muscle. He opened his hands, fingers splayed wide. I traced the wicked scars and felt the tapestry of a long and violent life. "Look upon these hands of mine, Hallr, and know that if it wasn't for the drengskapr of Torsten, you would not be seeing them now."
"Uncle Torsten?" In truth, Uncle Torsten wasn't my uncle. He also wasn't Father's brother, not by blood at least. What he was, however, was Father's blood-brother, bound by oath and by deed. He and Father were sworn to avenge the other's death, should fate be met and one still stand while the other didn't.
Father chuckled, his gaze lost to a time long-ago. "If you want a man to admire, you will find no better than Torsten Twoshield. There is no one I'd rather have at my side."
"I'll… I'll remember that." I looked Father in the eye and spoke with as much willpower as I could muster.
Father smiled, hair blowing in the wind. His hands swallowed my own as he drew in closer. "You have only seen ten winters, Hallr, but you are still the oldest of your brothers. When the time comes for you to go out in search of orthstirr, it is up to you to lead them and to lead them well."
"I will, Father."
"You will have to one day," he spoke after a long silence, brown eyes searching my own pair, "whether you like it or not. Death comes for us all and there is no use trying to run or hide from it. Tell me, son of mine, how would you act if, in a battle, you knew that you would be killed?"
I looked at my hands in his, at the sword on his waist, the saxes on his belt and mine, and at the shield resting against the side of the faering. If I knew that I was to be killed…?
"If I knew that I was going to die anyways, no matter what I did, then I'd act without fear and strike down all I could."
I didn't know if that was the right answer, but Father seemed to accept it just the same. "And if the opposite was true? If you knew that, whatever happened, you would not be killed?"
I thought about it for a brief moment, trying to see how it was any different to what he'd asked. "I'd…" I hesitated for fear of being wrong, a mistake.
Father sighed and released my hands. "A drengr does not fear, Hallr." My ears burned with shame as he continued to speak. It stung worse than the sudden coldness in my palms. "He stays the course and pays no heed to what may or may not pass."
"I'm sorry, Father. I just thought that… that I'd be wrong."
He waved off my words.
"Apologize by doing better next time. While it is good to consider your words and weigh them carefully, you must commit once spoken. Words have power, Hallr." He clapped his palms together, steering the ship back on course. "Now then, your answer?"
This time, I would not falter.
"If I knew I was going to live, no matter what I faced, then I would press forward and lay waste to all those who stood in my way."
Father smiled and I knew I answered well. He held up two fingers, the lesson clear to see.
"In every battle, there are only two outcomes. You will either fall or you will come away alive, so there is no reason to not be bold. The Nornar decide the moment of our death and no man nor god can change that. Nothing can bring a man to his death if it is not his time, and nothing can save a man doomed to die. It is up to us to decide how we die, but not all deaths are made equal."
Father breathed deep and his hair whipped in the sudden wind. His chest expanded as his lungs filled with the crisp lake air. Sparks of power danced across his eyes as frami shone over his body like the shining light of the sun. The weight of his virthing settled over his body like a mantle and his saemd wove through his cloak like silver and gold. His orthstirr, the crowning rainbow jewel of a Norseman's power, settled atop his head like a crown.
Live well and die gloriously. That is what it means to be DRENGR.
The barest hints of concepts unspooled from echoing letters. I saw weapons singing, swords clanging. I saw blood be spilled and heads fall from shoulders as arrows failed to slip through shields. I saw the love between warriors-turned-brothers as they clasped arms, of the knowledge that wherever their travels may take them, whatever fate holds in store for them, they go to it together.
His spoken-yet-unspoken words held a power I couldn't understand yet comprehended all the same. This was the strength of the gods given to man. This was cultivation, the goal of a man's life.
Father breathed out and the spell was broken. The glistening shine of his frami faded first, as it was the fame at the base of a Norseman's might. Next went the twins of virthing and saemd, worth and prestige going hand-in-hand just as they came in. Last was the orthstirr topping Father's head, a shining jewel of power refined from frami, saemd, and virthing. It stayed above his head, casting the world in a shimmering rainbow of colors.
I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry. I should say something, anything, but nothing came to my aid. He spoke the lessons my brothers and I had been taught, that all children were taught, since we were old enough to understand the words.
"When death comes for you, all that remains will be your orthstirr." He pointed to the gem shining up above his brow. "No man, god, or monster will live forever, we all will die eventually. But what will live on is your orthstirr, the words of glory that others place on your name."
He spread his arms wide, rainbow light flowing over his shoulders and twisting around his arms as I watched in awe. "Through our worthy deeds, our drengskapr, we receive frami, saemd, virthing, and from those we gain orthstirr. Power is drawn from that well of glory, which we then use to propel ourselves to even greater heights."
"Defend your honor well, for failing to do so will cost you much." With every word, Father's orthstirr faded until it was little more than a smoldering ember above his brow. He reached up and plucked it from the air and held it to the light. He examined it closely, holding the marble this way and that before his eye fell to me.
"Just as my father did for me and his father did for him, all the way back to when our people were the newborn children of the gods, I now pass on a portion of my power to you, Hallr." A smile creeped up his face and a glint of mischief entered his eye as he held out his arm and offered it to me. "Don't tell your brothers just yet. I want it to be a surprise, alright?"
I nodded, having found that I lacked the proper words to thank him as I accepted the gift with cupped hands.
It was warm to the touch, but not blisteringly hot. It was more like the feeling of a fire-warmed blanket wrapped around your shoulders on a cold winter morning. It was smooth, like a small pebble that had been polished to rounded perfection.
The gift of orthstirr faded away before my eyes, but I could still feel the warmth deep within my body. It was mine now, mine to do with as I pleased, as was my right as a karl, as a freeman.
"Later, once all your brothers have gotten their gift, I'll show you all how to use it properly. How to infuse it into your hamr and your hugr and, if the gods deem it, your fylgja as well."
"Thank you, Father." I whispered my thanks, having finally found the words.
"You can thank me by living well and dying gloriously, Hallr." Father hefted the oars and I blinked, hurriedly moving to copy his motions. "Now, let's get this back to shore, eh?"
0~0~0
"Father," he looked to me as the shore drew closer, our faering laden from a day spent fishing on the lake, "what does 'drengskapr' mean?"
I'd heard that word thrown around the cooking fire, when Father and Uncle Torsten shared tales of their youth with my brothers and I. It was something important, that much was obvious to my youthful ears, but I couldn't quite place its meaning amongst the dozens of other words they used.
Father pursed his lips and stroked his short beard, a deep black that I alone had inherited. The links of silver around his neck jingled as he nodded and made up his mind on the matter. He pulled his oars inside the boat, an action that I quickly mirrored.
"Drengskapr," there was a certain weight to his carefully considered words, a weight I never could quite match, "is what makes a man a drengr, and to be a drengr is what all men should aspire to be."
"And what is a drengr?"
"A drengr," he smiled as I asked, always ready to answer any questions my brothers or I had, "is a man you want by your side. He can be trusted and is loyal to the end. He is courageous and never gives up, not when faced with any threat or challenge. He is honorable and fair to friend, foe, and stranger alike. All of this and more are drengskapr, the workings of a drengr."
Father held up his hairy arms, heavy with corded muscle. He opened his hands, fingers splayed wide. I traced the wicked scars and felt the tapestry of a long and violent life. "Look upon these hands of mine, Hallr, and know that if it wasn't for the drengskapr of Torsten, you would not be seeing them now."
"Uncle Torsten?" In truth, Uncle Torsten wasn't my uncle. He also wasn't Father's brother, not by blood at least. What he was, however, was Father's blood-brother, bound by oath and by deed. He and Father were sworn to avenge the other's death, should fate be met and one still stand while the other didn't.
Father chuckled, his gaze lost to a time long-ago. "If you want a man to admire, you will find no better than Torsten Twoshield. There is no one I'd rather have at my side."
"I'll… I'll remember that." I looked Father in the eye and spoke with as much willpower as I could muster.
Father smiled, hair blowing in the wind. His hands swallowed my own as he drew in closer. "You have only seen ten winters, Hallr, but you are still the oldest of your brothers. When the time comes for you to go out in search of orthstirr, it is up to you to lead them and to lead them well."
"I will, Father."
"You will have to one day," he spoke after a long silence, brown eyes searching my own pair, "whether you like it or not. Death comes for us all and there is no use trying to run or hide from it. Tell me, son of mine, how would you act if, in a battle, you knew that you would be killed?"
I looked at my hands in his, at the sword on his waist, the saxes on his belt and mine, and at the shield resting against the side of the faering. If I knew that I was to be killed…?
"If I knew that I was going to die anyways, no matter what I did, then I'd act without fear and strike down all I could."
I didn't know if that was the right answer, but Father seemed to accept it just the same. "And if the opposite was true? If you knew that, whatever happened, you would not be killed?"
I thought about it for a brief moment, trying to see how it was any different to what he'd asked. "I'd…" I hesitated for fear of being wrong, a mistake.
Father sighed and released my hands. "A drengr does not fear, Hallr." My ears burned with shame as he continued to speak. It stung worse than the sudden coldness in my palms. "He stays the course and pays no heed to what may or may not pass."
"I'm sorry, Father. I just thought that… that I'd be wrong."
He waved off my words.
"Apologize by doing better next time. While it is good to consider your words and weigh them carefully, you must commit once spoken. Words have power, Hallr." He clapped his palms together, steering the ship back on course. "Now then, your answer?"
This time, I would not falter.
"If I knew I was going to live, no matter what I faced, then I would press forward and lay waste to all those who stood in my way."
Father smiled and I knew I answered well. He held up two fingers, the lesson clear to see.
"In every battle, there are only two outcomes. You will either fall or you will come away alive, so there is no reason to not be bold. The Nornar decide the moment of our death and no man nor god can change that. Nothing can bring a man to his death if it is not his time, and nothing can save a man doomed to die. It is up to us to decide how we die, but not all deaths are made equal."
Father breathed deep and his hair whipped in the sudden wind. His chest expanded as his lungs filled with the crisp lake air. Sparks of power danced across his eyes as frami shone over his body like the shining light of the sun. The weight of his virthing settled over his body like a mantle and his saemd wove through his cloak like silver and gold. His orthstirr, the crowning rainbow jewel of a Norseman's power, settled atop his head like a crown.
Live well and die gloriously. That is what it means to be DRENGR.
The barest hints of concepts unspooled from echoing letters. I saw weapons singing, swords clanging. I saw blood be spilled and heads fall from shoulders as arrows failed to slip through shields. I saw the love between warriors-turned-brothers as they clasped arms, of the knowledge that wherever their travels may take them, whatever fate holds in store for them, they go to it together.
His spoken-yet-unspoken words held a power I couldn't understand yet comprehended all the same. This was the strength of the gods given to man. This was cultivation, the goal of a man's life.
Father breathed out and the spell was broken. The glistening shine of his frami faded first, as it was the fame at the base of a Norseman's might. Next went the twins of virthing and saemd, worth and prestige going hand-in-hand just as they came in. Last was the orthstirr topping Father's head, a shining jewel of power refined from frami, saemd, and virthing. It stayed above his head, casting the world in a shimmering rainbow of colors.
I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry. I should say something, anything, but nothing came to my aid. He spoke the lessons my brothers and I had been taught, that all children were taught, since we were old enough to understand the words.
"When death comes for you, all that remains will be your orthstirr." He pointed to the gem shining up above his brow. "No man, god, or monster will live forever, we all will die eventually. But what will live on is your orthstirr, the words of glory that others place on your name."
He spread his arms wide, rainbow light flowing over his shoulders and twisting around his arms as I watched in awe. "Through our worthy deeds, our drengskapr, we receive frami, saemd, virthing, and from those we gain orthstirr. Power is drawn from that well of glory, which we then use to propel ourselves to even greater heights."
"Defend your honor well, for failing to do so will cost you much." With every word, Father's orthstirr faded until it was little more than a smoldering ember above his brow. He reached up and plucked it from the air and held it to the light. He examined it closely, holding the marble this way and that before his eye fell to me.
"Just as my father did for me and his father did for him, all the way back to when our people were the newborn children of the gods, I now pass on a portion of my power to you, Hallr." A smile creeped up his face and a glint of mischief entered his eye as he held out his arm and offered it to me. "Don't tell your brothers just yet. I want it to be a surprise, alright?"
I nodded, having found that I lacked the proper words to thank him as I accepted the gift with cupped hands.
It was warm to the touch, but not blisteringly hot. It was more like the feeling of a fire-warmed blanket wrapped around your shoulders on a cold winter morning. It was smooth, like a small pebble that had been polished to rounded perfection.
The gift of orthstirr faded away before my eyes, but I could still feel the warmth deep within my body. It was mine now, mine to do with as I pleased, as was my right as a karl, as a freeman.
"Later, once all your brothers have gotten their gift, I'll show you all how to use it properly. How to infuse it into your hamr and your hugr and, if the gods deem it, your fylgja as well."
"Thank you, Father." I whispered my thanks, having finally found the words.
"You can thank me by living well and dying gloriously, Hallr." Father hefted the oars and I blinked, hurriedly moving to copy his motions. "Now, let's get this back to shore, eh?"
...not the funny confession we were expecting, but a confession nonetheless.
Perhaps we should have had Steinarr talk with Gabriel about this?
[X] Alectai
- Pronouns
- He/Him
I have a hard time envisioning that helping, to be honest.
Steinarr and Gabriel stand side by side, awkwardly trying to find the right words.
Steinarr: So kid, i eard you want to kill me?
Gabriel: yes.
Steinarr: do you want to talk abaout it?
I can honestly see Steinarr being exactly like this
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Absolutely...I just don't see the result of the conversation changing things all that much.
Steinar is both wise, a Dreng and experienced.
The fact he has personally gone on a journey for revenge gives great perspectives too.
And, he did not hate or otherwise dismissed the knight when fighting him, from what we seen in the interlude.
Yeah... funny how akward it would start, but it has great potential in hindsight.
I would still pay to see it happen. Lots of emotional baggage to unpack there.
- Pronouns
- He/His/etc
"I dedicated my life to killing the man who killed my brothers, and when I finally caught up with him and crushed his skull in front of his son it felt amazing. A+ would recommend."
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Alectai actually switched his vote to Skippy's plan a bit ago, so nobody is voting for his original one by voting his name, since their votes follow his. If you prefer that one with some changes, you should repost it with those changes.
Honestly I'm curious how people in the quest would have reacted if we were in Gabriel's situation. Like how would Halla react if she got kidnapped by her fathers murderer and was made to work under them/their family. Then get told oh I see you as family and you shouldn't want to murder your fathers murderer just cause they are said persons father. Like we saw how Halla was ready to murder Horra in quest after all.
So admittedly I think it's a tad naive to think Gabriel would give up on revenge/wanting to kill Steinar just cause of a few words. Even if he did grow to like Halla as a friend.
So admittedly I think it's a tad naive to think Gabriel would give up on revenge/wanting to kill Steinar just cause of a few words. Even if he did grow to like Halla as a friend.
- Pronouns
- He/His/etc
I mean if we really wanted to stop him we should congratulate him for becoming a proper norseman and taking our values into his heart. Say Steinarr would be proud to have raised him so well and ask if he wants to attend a blot to get his revenge-oath properly witnessed.
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- Pronouns
- He/Him
You're missing the step where she freed him. That step makes a huge difference in a lot of ways. Like, the context of us having freed him and fought beside him and so on is actually really important there and completely missing from your example.
And Horra had a few major differences that make him a completely different situation:
1. Horra killed the people he killed in a dishonorable manner.
2. Horra was, in fact, an ongoing threat still targeting us and our family. We actually knew this even upon first hearing about him because we knew his kids had been willing to throw down after only hearing our name.
3. Horra used black magic and other dishonorable and horrifying means. He used them a lot.
4. At no point prior to his death did one of Horra's relatives reach out to us and help us and become one of our best friends.
So, yeah, very different situation.
I don't think any of the plans are actually trying to talk him out of it per se...they're trying to channel it in a direction where it won't cause a permanent break and, in some cases, point out to him the logistical difficulties of the path he is embarking on to make it clear he may not actually be able to do this.
Shard
One and Many
- Location
- Malaysia
On one hand it would be humorous and cathartic.
On the other hand it kinda feels like the natural outcome is that they duel to the death shortly after.
True I did forget to add in the release of him from being a thrall so my bad in that. Doesn't really change my question on how would Halla react in Gabriel's situation tho. Like I could see the quest trying to kill the murderer even if it was impractical in the long term in said situation.
Admittedly I was focusing on how Halla would react in Gabriel's situation and not if it was Horra who did it specifically. I just used him as an example based on how the quest hated him and did what they could to screw him over. But this is just me trying to think of it from Gabriel's perspective and how him wanting to kill Steinar is definitely understandable from a personal perspective.
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- Pronouns
- He/His/etc
Steinarr continues offering advice and coaching throughout the duel.
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Fair. I'm just noting that the thread's reaction to Horra doesn't mean we'd react in the same way to Steinarr in the situation Gabriel is in. But yeah, him wanting to kill Steinarr is totally understandable...it's just that so is his being a bit conflicted.
- Location
- Bretonnia
- Pronouns
- He/Him
[X] Plan From the Heart
I personally just see Gabriel as a close friend and I don't think the whole uh, 'If I didn't love Abjorn I'd marry you' is needed or even necessarily true but apart from that it's pretty good.
I personally just see Gabriel as a close friend and I don't think the whole uh, 'If I didn't love Abjorn I'd marry you' is needed or even necessarily true but apart from that it's pretty good.
- Pronouns
- He/Him
I mean, I did talk Skippy down to a 'might'. Which is true, I think...we're not really interested in Gabriel but in a world where Abjorn didn't exist, it'd be a possibility.
- Location
- Bretonnia
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Yeah, I know, I'm just nitpicking at this point so don't mind me. Ultimately Imperial will twist the write-in to be in-character if it isn't, so I'm not too fussed about worrying over the wording.