Dorri Rattlespear and Logi Firehair
Leaving Wolfwind in the capable hands of the Seeress, you push through the slowly dispersing crowds to the tent that the Headsman and Logi disappeared off into.
It's a rather fancy tent, all things considered. Thick bear pelts serve as shelter bound in place by silver-threaded rope. Chains hang off the sides, carved with pictures of glories that have long since passed into myth and legend.
You rattle one of the chains and the low murmur stops. Footsteps make their way to the sheet of hide serving as a door. A thick-wristed arm draws the sheet to the side, revealing a Logi standing at the entrance. Beyond the fair-haired warrior is Dorri, who's seated in a circle of chairs surrounding the warmth of a crackling fire.
"Halla Longstride, the talk of the town." Dorri welcomes you to his tent and offers you a chair, which you talk. "What brings you to my tent?"
You eye Logi as he follows you in, only for him to stop to lean against a tentpole. His arms fold over one another as he yawns with hollow eyes.
"Just... you know, Drysalt stuff." You offer a shrug as Logi snorts.
"See what I was saying, D?" Logi shakes his head as Dorri sighs. "Drysalt's what we should be focusing on."
"You were right on the talk of the town part, I'll admit that much." Dorri rolls his eyes as he rests his chin on a curled fist — the elbow braced against the armrest. "Regardless, Halla Longstride, what can I help you with?"
You smooth out your dress, eyes darting about the tent. Dozens of antlers line the walls, products of a fruitful youth spent hunting. "I... Have to bring something to your attention," Dorri nods and you go on — the knowledge that your dress is covered in grass stains weighing heavy on you mind, "The first is that there is an army of draugar in Horra's secret basement."
Dorri and Logi blink as one.
Dorri arches a brow. "An army of draugar?"
"How many are we talking?" Logi asks as he rises from his lean.
"Fifty-three, at least."
There's a long stretch of silence as Dorri just stares at you.
A growl eventually slips through his lips as he turns his gaze to the ceiling. "When it rains it fucking pours."
"Fifty-fuckin'-three." Logi sounds like he can't quite believe it. "Where did he get all those bodies from? Did he find them up his ass or something?"
"I was actually going to bring that up during the trial," you shrug as Dorri shoots Logi with a half-lidded glare, "I found the body of Haklangr the Large among the draugar, as well as the corpse of the elephant."
"You're telling me," Dorri's eye twitches, "that there was evidence that could've gotten Horra not only fully outlawed, but actively hunted down?"
"Fuck me running," Logi sighs as he runs a hand through is burning hair, "that's the only thing that this fuck's," he flicks a limp-wristed point at Dorri, "been talking about ever since you brought the case to him. I had a chance to Finally shut him up for good and I fucking wasted it? Gods. Damn. It."
"There's more." Dorri's eye twitches harder as Logi bites off another 'fuck.'
"Please, do go on." Dorri speaks through gritted teeth and clenching jaw.
"I learned from the troll that Drysalt was the one that put him in contact with Horra, as I learned from following the trail of destruction that the troll left in its wake."
Dorri stopped twitching at this point. Not a muscle moves on his face as he turns to regard Logi.
"Logi," Dorri blinks, "the fuck."
"Alright, listen," Logi holds up his hands as Dorri scoffs, "I can explain."
"You better have a damn good one for that stunt."
"Understood," Logi nods as he looks from the both of you, "look, neither of you are from these parts, not really. Born here, sure, but you don't have the roots, your families aren't from the Hading. You don't know Drysalt, not really." Dorri arches a doubting brow, which has Logi shaking his head. "You know the stories, but neither you nor your families were there."
"But you were."
"But I was, yeah." Logi swallows, a heartbeat of silence following. "I was a boy of seven when I watched the Jarldom of the Hading burn."
"So that's what this is about." Dorri's face twists into a frown.
"Once, the Hading had three-hundred and eighty people living in it. Then the Yellow-Eyed Troll, Drysalt, emerged." He's distant now, eyes locked to the middle-distance. "When Hasvir killed its master, there were barely forty left. Men, women, and so many damn children... It took two weeks for it to destroy the Jarldom, for it to kill the Jarl and his entire family. We thought it dead with its master."
"But you were wrong." Dorri's frown only deepened as the story went on
"It's looking that way, yeah."
Dorri rests his chin on his arm. "I'll let it slide this once, Logi. Don't let it happen again."
Logi nods. "Of course."
"Is Havir...?" You trail off as Dorri and Logi blink, seemingly having forgotten your presence.
"Horra's father?" Logi nods. "Yeah, yeah he was."
'He was a good man, one that did not deserve the end I gave him.'
"A rock and a hard place, it would seem." Dorri purses his lips as he stares at the fire, mind whirring to come up with a solution. "I think that the old guard would riot if I did anything other than focus on Drysalt, which means that the draugar problem is going to fester. Unless..." His gaze flicks to you as a gleaming, shimmering spark shines in his eye. "You already know where this 'secret basement' is, don't you?"
The air grows heavy with power as Weight sets the chains to rattling. Dorri rises to his feet, the tension in the air rising with him. The fire flickers wildly before the pressure extinguishes it. A light trail of smoke floats up as it casts the room into a murky darkness.
"Halla Longstride, I offer you Ship and Sail to take this quest."
He holds out his hand.
You take it.
0~0~0
AN: Surprise, there's more.
But this is probably going to be the last for today.
All that's left now is the talk with Elephant Guy+Haleikr, talk with Folkmarr+Audrikr, and then more talking in the form of Gabriel.
And then the !!Fun!! begins.
