[X] Check out the Ritual Chamber
Leaving the brothers to catch up in the house, you circle on around to where the ritual chamber's entrance was hidden in the ash's roots. Was, of course, being the keyword there.
The roots have been chopped to pieces, likely by an axe or sax judging by depth. Swords typically leave shallower slashes, though it could also be the culprit if wielded in that way. Definitely not a spear, though, the marks are far too uniform for something as unwieldy as a spear cutting. Though...
You sigh, rubbing at your temples. A spear user could just shrink down their weapon with a trick, making that entire train of thought useless.
Moving past the decimated plant growth, you traverse down the root-embraced dirt formations serving as a stairwell with only Stigmar at your back. Abjorn and the Twins are too big for a room such as this, so you left them to guard the surface.
The further down you travel, the harder it is to hear the rather loud shouting of Hirkir doing Hirkir things. By the time you reach the bottom, the noise is but a distant memory in your mind. The Witch couldn't have heard a thing.
The Witch's ritual chamber is, surprisingly, in much better condition than her house. The Witch's clothing-wrapped skeleton lays crumpled on the ground, animals and insects having picked over her body. It looks to have been a quick affair, a sharp blow to the back of the head and she was gone.
Surrounding her is a selection of different materials, most of which seem to have been perishable and, therefore, now gone. The sole remaining ingredient is the material making up the circle — obsidian shards.
However, gripped in her skeletal hand is a clay bottle — her other hand reaching to uncork it. Sparkles decorate the clay, reminding you of the patch you discovered in the hills near your home.
Bending over, you gently pry her fingers away from the corked bottle. The surface is warm to the touch and, as you move it around, you feel the sluggish sloshing of a thick, goopy liquid. You go to open it, but Blackhand's voice stops you in your tracks.
'I'd know that feeling anywhere, it's Earthblood.'
"Earthblood?" You whisper to yourself as Stigmar looks over the body. He's thinking about something, which you'll probably learn in a moment.
'The blood of the earth itself, it's lava, it's magma. There are no volcanoes in Agder, so she must have gone to great lengths to retrieve this.'
"But for what purpose?" The question goes unanswered as it hangs in the air like an unwanted suitor.
"Halla?" Stigmar's voice calls to you from where he crouches near the body. "Do you know anyone with a Dane axe?"
"Dane axe?"
He taps the Witch's skull as he nods. "Bearded axes don't go deep enough to cause a wound like this, but it's too short for a sword blow and the ceiling is too low for a spear. But Dane axes go deeper than bearded axes."
"Sure it's not a sax?"
He shakes his head. "Nah, a sax would've hit the neck, this didn't."
You frown as you stare at the wound. There's not exactly a lot of Danes in the Hading, let alone Dane axes...
...There is one possibility, though.
Halfdan the Dane.
...Things just got a whole lot more complicated.
(Bottle of Earthblood Added to Inventory)
(Journal Entry: The Hading Witch Updated)
0~0~0
"So..." Abjorn says as he stares into your eyes.
'So...' Blackhand mirrors him.
Both trail off into silence as neither know what to say.
"Uh, your voice doesn't sound like how I imagined it to be."
Blackhand blinks. 'Okay?'
Abjorn blinks. "N-not that that's a bad thing... I just thought you'd sound gruffer, like my father."
'I'm not gruff enough?' You have to agree with Blackhand here, he's got a pretty damn gravelly voice.
Abjorn only shrugs.
'Well, I'm Hallr Blackhand, Warlord of Gotland, Slayer of Men, Lover of Women, Far-Ranging Wanderer, Father of Many, and Friend to a Chosen Few.'
"Uh, I'm Abjorn Vidsson," Abjorn scratches at his neck, not super sure what to say to that, "I, uh, I once caught a really big tree."
'I was there.'
"Oh, right."
0~0~0
You stand across from Steinarr, in a deserted part of the Hading. He's wearing his mail and Crowfeeder is plunged into the ground before him. He rests his hands on its hilt as he stares at you.
"Halla, I respect you in three main ways," he holds up three fingers, "I respect you as your own person," a finger falls, "as my daughter," a second finger falls, "but right now, the third is most important," the last finger falls, damning you to your fate, "my respect for you as a fellow warrior, as an equal on the battlefield."
Your brows start to furrow as Crowfeeder leaps into his hand and points towards you. There's not the slightest hint of a waver to his arm and the blade is as level as the flattest field.
The wind dies as trees still, leaving the stretch of land deadly quiet. The clouds roll in to obscure the sun as a dog starts to howl in the distance. More dogs join the chorus, until there's nothing in your ears but the sound of howling dogs.
"Today," the howling ceases the exact moment Steinarr speaks, "you face not your father, but Captain Steinarr of the Varangian Guard, The Hero of Cyprus. Prepare yourself, for you have my full attention."
'Oh dear.'
0~0~0
(Hugr (Tactics): 6x2, 4x5, 3x1, 2x2, 1x2)6+5(Frenzy)=11 Successes
...Fuck.
Alright.
Um.
Uh, alright.
You've got this! Just a little bit of... Oh who are you kidding? You're about to have your ass very vigorously handed to you.
Regardless, Steinarr lacks Frenzy. He also doesn't seem to be putting much emphasis on his guard... but what that means in the context of a man at his level is uncertain.
He holds his sword in a rather odd way, like a mix of Norse and... something else entirely. Now that you think about it, Halfdan holds his weapons the same way, as does Vidar...
He's got fire hugareida, plant hugareida, that smoke hugareida, uh, probably also sword hugareida. Man, haha! You're, uh, you're a little stressed right now!
...
Endurance: (12/12) | Frenzy: (5/5) (+5 to all Combat Rolls) | Armor Health: (17/17) (+4 to Defense)
Orthstirr: (543/543) | Odr: (26)
( ) Frami: 181 | ( ) Virthing: 181 | ( ) Saemd: 181
Sagaseeker has 35 orthstirr in its reservoir.
Your Armor has 13 orthstirr in its reservoir.
Shapeshifting is granting you (+1 Damage and +1 Attack-Speed)
Your combat pool is 70d6.
Punching Up is absolutely available, lmao
What do you do?
[ ] (Plan Name)
-[ ] (Dice) Attack
-[ ] (Dice) Defense
-[ ] (Dice) Intercept
-[ ] (Dice) (Trick) (Orthstirr)
-[ ] Tactics Write in
0~0~0
AN: >; )
No moratorium. This is the last update for today. I was hoping to shoot for four, but alas, the weather is not in my favor.
