NorseQuest (A Norse Xianxia)

[I.F. Ister]

Spoiler: First Turn Back

[X] Plan First Turn Back
-[X] (Personal) Spend time with...(Write in)
--[X] Steinarr and the rest of the family
--[X] Grieve with them over our mother. Hug our family.
--[X] Stigandr
--[X] See if he's any better, try and get him to talk and spend time with you and Abjorn. Stigmar is also invited.
--[X] Gabriel
--[X] Talk about buying and freeing him (and Jerasmus), discuss the favor with the meteor...make it clear that this isn't conditional, we'll buy and free him either way if he wants, but it'd be appreciated if he helps with the meteor and needs to be done while he's wearing his manacles for technical reasons.
-[X] (Leverage suggestions for Abjorn)
--[X] Something to allow him to simply break in half people or things he gets ahold of (wrestling being the obvious usage, but snapping weapons would also work if he grabbed them, or breaking trees in half...not that he needs the help on that last one)
--[X] Something to allow him to swing weapons _even harder_ (a sword is a lever when swung, after all)
--[X] Something allowing him to redirect force when it hits his shield knocking opponents off balance.
-[X] (Research)
--[X] Look into what happened with the break in reality we experienced and the Norns. Just...talk with Hallr and try and figure out what's going on there. 1d6
--[X] Experiment with using Frami, Virthing, and Saemd. When full on orthstirr and see if we can make the orthstirr do anything odd...see if we can figure out where it goes. Try pouring orthstirr into them. Try and manifest them for longer than usual. Try to have our Fylgja manifest them. Try using _only_ orthstirr from each of the three to activate Tricks, particularly Kindle Spinner (both from us and our fylgja) and see if it makes any difference in the tricks in question. Other stuff like that. 1d6
---[X] While doing this, make sure to always have at least one of the three in reserve so we're not taken by surprise or anything.
-[X] (Blackhand's Training) Try to develop old/train new hugareida tricks (Write in)
--[X] Train Kindle-Spinner 2d6 (1d6)
--[X] Train Firebomb-Strike 2d6 (1d6)
--[X] Train Ember-Winged Cloak 2d6 (1d6)
--[X] Train Campfire 2d6 (1d6)
-[X] (Steinarr's Training) Ask Steinarr to teach you a trick/some tricks (Write in)
--[X] Train Sidestep 1d6
--[X] Train Magnify-Sight Trick 1d6
--[X] Train 'Household' Housecraft Skill-Trick 1d6
--[X] Train 'Teaching' Wordplay Skill-Trick 1d6
-[X] (Training) Hamr (30 successes to rank up)
--[X] Train Hamr itself 5d6
-[X] (Training) Hugr (31 successes to rank up)
--[X] Train Hugr itself 1d6
--[X] Train Armorcraft 1d6
--[X] Train Artcraft 1d6
--[X] Train Barb-Tongue 1d6
--[X] Train Housecraft 1d6
--[X] Train Silver-Tongue 1d6
--[X] Train Weaponcraft 1d6
--[X] Train Wildcraft 1d6
--[X] Train Wordplay 1d6
-[X] (Training) Fylgja (16 success to rank up)
--[X] Train Fylgja Itself 1d6
-[X] Management
--[X] (Construction) Improve House 7d6
--[X] (Construction) Build Workshop 5d6
--[X] (Construction) Build Barn 10d6
--[X] (Construction) Build Storehouse 5d6
--[X] (Fields) Clear Fields 7d6 (6d6 from Plow and Scythe)
--[X] (Resources) Cloth 8d6 (3d6 from Wood Axe)
-[X] (Orthstirr Usage)
--[X] 5 Hamr
---[X] 4 Chop, 4 Defend, 4 Dodge, 4 Glima, 3 Bash, 3 Pierce, 3 Throw, 2 Labor, 3 Overland (30 total)
--[X] 6 Hugr
---[X] 3 Composure, 4 Housecraft, 2 Management, 3 Scouting, 3 Silver-Tongue, 3 Strategy, 3 Tactics, 4 Wordplay, 3 Wildcraft (28 total)
--[X] 4 Fylgja
--[X] 1 First Impression
--[X] 145 free for tricks

0~0~0

Spoiler: Training

(Sidestep Trick Training: 4) 1 Success. (Magnify-Sight Trick: 1) 1 Failure (Household: 2)1 Failure. (Teaching: 6)2 Successes
These damned eyes of yours...

You scowl, a growl spilling from your throat as Abjorn works on refining his Leverage. His bear — a big, yellow-furred beast — blinks as a butterfly lands on its nose.

(+1 Sidestep Trick)
(+2 Teaching Skill-Trick)
0~0~0
(Hugareida Trick Training #1: 3, 1)1+1=2 Successes. (#2: 3, 5)3+1=4 Successes. (#3: 1, 6)1+1=2 Successes. (Campfire: 4, 2)1+1=2 Successes
Steady progress is good progress, that's what Sten always says anyways.

(+2 to Kindle Spinner)
(+4 to Firebomb Strike)
(+2 to Ember-Winged Cloak)
(+2 to Campfire)
0~0~0
(Hamr Training: 6, 6, 3, 6, 5) 9 Successes
Well, if there's one good thing about owning your own farm — besides, of course, the owning of your own farm — it's that there is a lot of hard labor to do.

(+9 to Hamr)
0~0~0
(Hugr Training: 1) 1 Failure. (Armorcraft: 1)1+1=1 Success. (Artcraft: 6) 2+1=3 Successes. (Barb-Tongue: 2) 1 Failure. (Housecraft: 1)1+1=1 Success. (Silver-Tongue: 2) 1 Failure. (Weaponcraft: 6) 2+1=3 Successes. (Wildcraft: 3) 1+1=2 Successes. (Wordplay: 5) 2+1=3 Successes
With all the farm work going on, you've had a lot less time to focus on practicing your more mindful arts. Still, you managed to improve a little bit.

(+1 Armorcraft)
(+1 Housecraft)
(Artcraft Rank Up)
(+3 Weaponcraft)
(+2 Wildcraft)
(+3 Wordplay)
0~0~0
(Fylgja Training: 1) 1 Failure
No luck with your fylgja. Looks like it's gotten a little lazy since last time you trained...

Spoiler: Farmlife

(House: 6, 1, 1, 2, 2, 4, 4)1+4=5 Successes. (Workshop: 6, 5, 4, 5, 4) 8+4=12 Successes. (Barn: 3, 1, 3, 6, 4, 6, 6, 6, 3, 5)13+4=17 Successes. (Storehouse: 5, 2, 4, 3, 4)4+4=8 Successes.
Wiping the sweat from your brow, you share a quick kiss with your love as you stand in the midst of your farm.

It was a lot of hard work getting it all built, barely had time to do, well, anything really!

But you did it.

And with the efforts made this time around, it'll be way easier to improve them next time!

(+5 to Decent House)
(+12 to Workshop)
(+17 to Barn)
(+8 to Storehouse)
0~0~0
(Sheep: 4, 4, 5, 3, 6, 1, 6, 4)9x4=36 Cloth
You shake your head as you gaze upon the stacks of cloth piling up in the storehouse.

From beyond the walls of the storehouse, the distressed mooing of a new ox reaches your ears.

(+36 Cloth)
(+1 Decent Ox)
0~0~0
(Clearing Fields: 6, 4, 4, 2, 1, 4, 3)4 Successes
While you did manage to clear your first field, that was more or less all the progress you actually made at it. Oh well, you've got more than enough food and fodder to survive winter.

You quickly rap your knuckles against the nearest fencepost.

(Field #1 Cleared!)
(+1 to Clearing Field #2)

Spoiler: Research

Discussing the Reality Break
"When the Enemy does its work... makes its move, what exactly happens? If it can manipulate fate, how come we're not dead already?"

You're in a secluded spot in the woods you found while wandering one day. There's a light trickle of a tiny stream's waterfall playing in the background as a smooth stone sits flat in the shadow of a brilliant ash.

'I... I knew the answers to that, once, but...' Blackhand's frown is visible in the way he speaks. 'I seem to have forgotten, I'm sorry. All I remember is that the Nornir are, in purpose, completely neutral and entirely arbitrary entities.'

You frown in turn as a light breeze bats your hair to the side.

Looks like you'll need to do some more thinking on that, in greater focus.
0~0~0
Playing with Aspects
In that same spot under the ancient, swaying ash, you find yourself sitting on the stone once more.

The tree creaks over your head as you focus your power and stoke your frami. Crimson flames sprout from your skin, shouting your existence at the world and demanding that it listens to your words.

Eyes closed and brows furrowed, you hone your focus to a razor-sharp point as frami whirls about your body. It feels... almost more *malleable* with your full supply of orthstirr providing a sort of buoyancy to its movements.

Opening your eyes, you stretch out your arm and flex your will. In tune with the movements of your arm, crimson fire spreads out along its length and then further still as it touches the edge of the stone.

But even as controllable as it is, it's... it's almost lacking something. With how light it is, it feels as if it needs something to anchor it, some kind of foundation to build off of.

Frowning, you move on to the next part of your experimentation; using only orthstirr from an Aspect to fuel tricks. For this job, Kindle Spinner seems to be the most appropriate of choices.

Holding your hand palm-facing the sky, you focus your frami and force it to swirl in that familiar pattern. Slowly, surely, a Kindle Spinner violently spins its way into existence in your palm.

Well, you're not sure what, exactly, you were expecting. After all, frami already is crimson fire and that's just Kindle Spinner anyways. But, that's not all there is to power, to tricks.

Kindle-Spinner when fueled only with frami seems to almost have a hunger to it. A hunger for violence, a hunger reminiscent of Sagaseeker...

Shrugging, you dispel the trick and release hold of your frami — as you are rather curious to see what happens when you do such a thing when full on orthstirr.

The moment you release hold on your frami, it's as if it were grabbed by something. It's sucked to the ground and swiftly disappears into smooth stone. That's what always happens, except this time it was far, far quicker to happen. Like something was greedily gobbling it down like Drifa during Yule.

For some reason, a sinking feeling thunders up from your gut.

Shaking your head side-to-side, you clear it of any malignant thoughts before proceeding with the next experiment on the docket; trying two Aspects at once. If frami feels like its lacking something, like it needs something to build upon, perhaps virthing and saemd can build upon each other?

The moment you call forth virthing and saemd is the moment you feel it.

It twists and turns, spinning and weaving in your soul. It's barely there, almost completely unnoticeable in the whirling strands of crimson power wrapping around themselves, in and out, over and over again — one part of singed feathers, the other of flaming iron. It curls, spinning into a ring of mouth on tail as it descends through your body.

It settles at the bottom of your stomach — just above your unborn children — and waits, patiently, for something. For something that isn't clear.

As it rests and waits, the light of virthing and saemd weaving into one length shines all throughout your being. Into every nook and cranny, corner and crevice it flows, revealing all there is to see in the empty, barren landscape of you soul.

The only thing in existence in the void is a locked and barred gate, facing out and away from the empty abyss at the very edge, the barrier between the inner and the outer.

But even as patient as virthing and saemd may be, it simply lacks the staying power of... of something.

The light recedes and the paired Aspects unravel, spilling out to be swallowed by the earth.

Lost in thought, you rise to your feet, barely aware of the time of day — six hours passed since you started your work.

0~0~0
Grieving with Steinarr and the rest of the family
When you pass through the doorway to the place you once called home, you enter into a building far different to your memories.

Drifa sits with the other children, a scowl on her face as she mutters something about 'killing sickness'. Sterki doesn't understand what happened, not entirely. Every once in a while he goes up to one of the adults and asks where 'mama' is.

Nobody has the heart to tell him the truth, not yet.

Draupnir and Steinkell, your nephew and newest brother in turn, sleep with blessed peace in their cradles. Minna and Randi tend to them and the children as needed, but mostly they sit in silence.

Sten's in the forge, hammering away at something or another. He's not the kind of person who mourns openly, not even with his kin and kith. Clanks-like-thunder ring out over and over again, the only hints to how the storm rages.

Asva sits beside your father, making sure that he eats — on pain of angering her. In the days and weeks following Asveig's death... Asva's really stepped up and taken charge. Even in the quiet sorrow of the hall, she's hard at work making sure everything is as it should be.

But as you walk through the door, you find your gaze glued to the face of your father.

He's aged a decade in as many days and his eyes have lost that spark of playful kindness that has always lingered in that sea of steel. He's eating, if only thanks to Asva's unrelenting insistence, but...

Steinarr Hallsson is a corpse who hasn't realized it yet, a dead man walking — and he knows it.

The man you knew as father is dead and gone, burnt to ashes in his wife's funeral pyre.

He meets your gaze, the fire reflecting in his broken eyes. There's nothing in them, not of your father.

All that's left is anger, a mourner's rage. Cold, patient, razor-sharp wrath.

He doesn't know why Asveig died like she did, but it wasn't natural — not to him. He refused to accept that Asveig could just die like that, when there's no reason she should've. She was on the mend, as he says, sickness had nothing to do with it.

His quiet ranting late in the night has kept you up more than you care to admit — in the handful of nights that you've spent with your kin since Asveig's death.

He rises to his feet as words, slow and solemn — more fitting a judge deciding the fate of the accused than the man you once knew as father — fall from his mouth. There's something in his hands that shines as it catches the light of the fire, something silver and polished.

"Halla..." He comes to a stop before you as you stand just inside the doorway. Shame, nid, sparks in his eyes as he holds his clenched hand out to you. "I've kept this from you, Asveig... she wanted you to have this and I..." His voice closes in as he chokes his words out, "I couldn't let her go!"

A small silver chain falls into your hand, an amulet hanging off the side. A red, shining ruby as big as your thumbnail sits in the surface of the silver as gold dances around it in swirling shapes and sweeping, curling gestures.

Runes round the outside edge of the circle, runes of a type you nor Blackhand can decipher.

You stay silent, his eyes telling you all you need to know. No matter how much you said it was okay, he'll never forgive himself. Not for something like this, something of a magnitude you can only guess at.

When Steinarr starts speaking again, his voice is quiet, a near-silent whisper that has your ears straining, "She said that there's something in Vestfold for you, something that the amulet belongs with."

"No details?"

"Her last words."

"Oh..."

"I'm giving you the Christians," his words are hissed with sudden anger, whiplash fury sparking in his eyes, "I don't want them in my home, not after what that mendicant tried." His voice turns to a low hiss as he snarls out his next words. "She doesn't need his prayers, she never did."

'That's not good.' Blackhand's blunt words sums your thoughts up nicely as you stow the amulet on your person. Your grandfather was silent as he watched the mourning process from within the empty depths of your soul. When only you can hear it there's not much point to trying to comfort someone who can't.

Later that day, when you left with Gabriel and Jerasmus in tow, something brushed along your hair. Something cold, something malignant.

Something wearing your mother's face and cursing the building you once called home.

(Journal Added: The Vestfold Amulet)
(Journal Added: The Curse Wearing Mother's Face)
(Gabriel and Jerasmus added to Household)
(Gabriel's Armor added to Inventory)
0~0~0
Talking with Gabriel
"I'm freeing you, by the way." The shackles fall away from Gabriel's hands as he blinks in shock. They clatter against the ground as realization spreads across Gabriel's face.

He falls to his knees, tears in the corners of his eyes as he gazes at the sky. A smile, weak yet full of hope forms on his face as simple words fall from his mouth. "I... I'm free."

"Aye," ever since the raid... well, you've been having a few thoughts on things. "What you do with it is up to you, but I wouldn't mind your help around the farm. I'll pay you of course."

Jerasmus, unlike his young compatriot, is still on his feet. He never had any shackles to begin with, so having them removed does nothing. He bounces on his feet, hands held behind his smock as he thinks out loud. "I wonder what I shall do, now that my freedom is mine once again." He scoffs to himself as a smile spreads up the side of his face. "Ah, as if there was ever any doubt; I'll continue my wandering, see what there is to see, and talk with those who can, cannot, and won't speak back."

You nod once, slowly. Weird words from a weird man. It can only be expected, really.

Gabriel rises to his feet and wipes his eyes of tears. There's a look of purpose on his face, like he'd realized something while on his knees. "I was wondering why God would allow something like my enslavement to happen, but... I may have not sworn the Knight's Oath yet, but I still follow them as best I can."

Something swirls in the air, like the spiritual pressure of newly unleashed vigor.

"One of the Oaths is to seek out Evil and destroy it wherever it may be," he points a finger in the direction of your once-home as he sets his jaw, zealous determination firing up in his eyes. "There is evil, true evil, in your home. Standing still in the face of such evil... I would never be worthy of the title of Knight."

You smile as you extend your hand. "Glad to have you on side."

He takes your palm with his and meets your steel with deep water. "Glad to be here."

(+3 Relations with Gabriel)
(Gabriel added to Household as Huskarl)
0~0~0
Checking in on Stigandr
Traipsing through the woods, you find yourself before Stigandr's ho-

Something crunches off to the side of the woods, drawing your gaze to the source and your weapons to your hand. Ever since meeting with the family, you've been on edge to a frankly ridiculous degree.

So, when a lumbering figure shambles from the tree line, groans, and then collapses before you in a pile of dreary rags, you're left staring open-mouthed at the pile of clothes with a look of utter confusion on your face.

What fresh horror is this? What task will you have to complete today? You've got a lot on your plate, too much some may say!

Laughter rings out as the figure's head turns towards you — revealing the smiling face of your friend, Stigr.

Tears spill from your eyes as you fall to your knees and pull him into a tight hug. He squawks, trying to free himself from your grasp to no avail.

This? This is a win, a concrete one, one you've been needing for a long, long time.

(Journal Entry: Stigandr's Plight is now resolved. Good job.)
(+2 Relations with Stigr)
Pick one:
[ ] Muna: The Return of Stigr (Gives Twist: Hidden in Rags)
[ ] +2 Hamingja

0~0~0
Surplus (Pick 1 or none):
[ ] Make a sacrifice to the Gods (+1 Hamingja per 20 Food/Fodder sacrificed to a limit of 3)
[ ] Host a feast (Costs 1 Food per guest, +1 Relations with each)
-[ ] Write in guests
[ ] Donate to a family in need (+1 Drengskapr per 12 Food/Fodder donated, to a limit of 3)
0~0~0
Personal (Pick 2/3, if no Exploration is picked):
[ ] (Violent) Pick a fight or spar with... (Not an option while pregnant)
-[ ] Spar with Abjorn, your husband
-[ ] Someone else (Write in)
[ ] (Personal) Spend time with... (Write in)
[ ] (Shopping) Ask Abjorn to buy something for you (Write in) (Can only be used to buy or sell things you are already aware of and cannot haggle)
[ ] (Crafting) Try to make something (Write in) (Hugr+Some kind of crafting skill)
-[ ] (Optional) Focus on repairing something (Write in)
[ ] (Poetry) Try to realize an Inspiration (Write in one of your Inspirations)
0~0~0
Exploration/Travel (Pick 1 or none):
[ ] (Visit) Go visit...
-[ ] The Witch! (Actually, it's probably a good idea to avoid her entirely)
-[ ] Asvir!
-[ ] Steinby, your Father's Farm
--[ ] (Optional) Go here with the intent to investigate the Curse.
-[ ] Vidby, Vidar's Farm
-[ ] Kerby, Stigr's Farm
-[ ] Buriby, Osborn's Farm (Has a guaranteed chance of ending in a fight) (Not an option while pregnant)
-[ ] Glebby, Sverre's Farm
-[ ] Runby, Aki's Farm
-[ ] Horrby, Horra's Farm (Has a very good chance of ending in a fight) (Not an option while pregnant)
--[ ] Rather than visiting normally, you instead stealthily approach and try to scout it out.
-[ ] Halfdanby, Halfdan's Farm
[ ] (Exploration) Go on a walk through...
-[ ] The fields!
-[ ] The Hading!
--[ ] (Optional) Try to find those bandits you heard about (not while you're pregnant)
-[ ] The hills!
--[ ] (Optional) Towards where the flaming thing landed. Maybe there's something you missed?
0~0~0
Training: You have 25d6 training dice to spend as you see fit.
[ ] (Research) Try to figure out how things work (Write in)
[ ] (Blackhand) Try to develop old/train new hugareida tricks (Write in)
[ ] (Steinarr's Training) Ask Steinarr to teach you a trick/some tricks (Write in)
[ ] (Training) Hamr (21 successes to rank up)
-[ ] (Optional) Train a hamr skill or trick (Write in)
[ ] (Training) Hugr (31 successes to rank up)
-[ ] (Optional) Train a hugr skill or trick (Write in)
[ ] (Training) Fylgja (16 successes to rank up)
-[ ] (Optional) Train a fylgja skill or trick (Write in)
0~0~0
Management: You have 30d6 management dice to spend as you see fit
[ ] (Construction) Write in
[ ] (Multi-Crafting) Write in
[ ] (Resource) Write in
-[ ] (Cloth) 8 Dice Maximum
[ ] (Fields) Write in
0~0~0
Orthstirr Available: 229
How do you want to use your orthstirr? You can turn on passive tricks here.
[ ] (Orthstirr Usage) (Write in)
0~0~0
Fylgja Capacity: 4/4
Do you want to withdraw or deposit anything in your fylgja?
[ ] Write in (Optional)
0~0~0
Equipment Management
What do you want to have equipped? Leaving this blank means that no changes are made.
[ ] Write in (Optional)
0~0~0
AN: This was a lot of writing, wowee... (this was, like, ~4k ish including spoilers and planning stuff. Doesn't seem like all that much, but I'm only human)

Well, it can't be helped, really. Let's hope the next one doesn't have as much stuff in it!

25-minute moratorium.

Multi-Crafting works pretty simply. You assign dice and a minor object you want made and the number of successes determines how many minor objects are made, depending on the success requirements of the minor object in question.

Explosion-Charms require 3 Successes each
Meat-Keeping Sticks require 2 Successes each

I am almost 100% sure that I've missed some bit of math.

Also, we made it to the end of Summer 5! YAY!

Hopefully, we'll be able to leave the bad feels in the rearview.

 

[I.F. Ister]

Spoiler: Dealing With The Curse

[X] Plan Dealing With The Curse
-[X] (Personal) Spend time with...
--[X] Gabriel
--[X] Offer him his armor back, it's his after all
--[X] Talk to him about the Meteor and ask for his help
-[X] (Personal) Spend time with...(again)
--[X] Jerasmus
--[X] Consult with him, see if he has any insights as to what caused the Curse and what measures you might have to break it
--[X] Ask him about the bible and what's in it, see about learning to read it
-[X] (Visit) Go visit...
--[X] Steinby, your Father's Farm
--[X] (Optional) Go here with the intent to investigate the Curse.
--[X] After talking with Jerasmus
-[X] (Surplus)
--[X] Make a sacrifice to the Gods (+1 Hamingja per 20 Food/Fodder sacrificed to a limit of 3) (60 Food)
-[X] (Research)
--[X] Experiment with Frami, Virthing, and Saemd and weaving them together further, including doing all three and experimenting with the Gate. If it looks like it's putting up resistance, don't force it, try pivoting instead to doing something inside the Empty Space. Also make sure there are people with us to guard against ambush if using all three of the options 1d6
--[X] Research the bible (ideally with Jerasmus if he's available) 1d6
-[X] (Blackhand's Training) Try to develop old/train new hugareida tricks (Write in)
--[X] Train Kindle-Spinner 2d6 (1d6)
--[X] Train Firebomb-Strike 2d6 (1d6)
--[X] Train Ember-Winged Cloak 2d6 (1d6)
--[X] Train Campfire 2d6 (1d6)
-[X] (Steinarr's Training) Ask Steinarr to teach you a trick/some tricks (Write in)
--[X] Train Sidestep 1d6
--[X] Train Magnify-Sight Trick 1d6
--[X] Train 'Household' Housecraft Skill-Trick 1d6
--[X] Train 'Teaching' Wordplay Skill-Trick 1d6
-[X] (Training) Hamr (21 successes to rank up)
--[X] Train Hamr itself 11d6
-[X] (Training) Hugr (31 successes to rank up)
--[X] Train Hugr itself 1d6
--[X] Train Weaponcraft 1d6
--[X] Train Wildcraft 1d6
-[X] (Training) Fylgja (16 success to rank up)
--[X] Train Fylgja Itself 1d6
-[X] Management
--[X] (Construction) Improve House #1 1d6
--[X] (Construction) Improve House #2 6d6
--[X] (Construction) Improve Workshop 1d6
--[X] (Construction) Improve Barn 1d6
--[X] (Construction) Improve Storehouse 6d6
--[X] (Fields) Clear Fields 16d6 (6d6 from Scythe and Plow, +2 successes from Ox)
--[X] (Resources) Cloth 8d6 (3d6 from Wood Axe)
-[X] (Fylgja Capacity)
--[X] Put the largest boulder we can find in the unused slot
-[X] (Equipment)
--[X] Add our new sax as another backup weapon
-[X] (Orthstirr Usage)
--[X] 5 Hamr
---[X] 4 Chop, 4 Defend, 4 Dodge, 4 Glima, 3 Bash, 3 Pierce, 3 Throw, 2 Labor, 3 Overland (30 total)
--[X] 6 Hugr
---[X] 3 Composure, 4 Housecraft, 2 Management, 3 Scouting, 3 Silver-Tongue, 3 Strategy, 3 Tactics, 4 Wordplay, 3 Wildcraft (28 total)
--[X] 4 Fylgja
--[X] 1 First Impression
--[X] 155 free for tricks

0~0~0

Spoiler: Training

(Sidestep: 2) 1 Failure. (Magnifeye: 5) 2 Successes (Household: 5) 2 Successes. (Teaching: 6) 2 Successes.
(+2 to Magnify-Sight)
(Household Skill Trick Acquired!)
(+2 to Teaching Skill Trick)
0~0~0
(Hugareida Trick Training #1: 6, 6)4+1=5 Successes. (#2: 1, 3)1+1=2 Successes. (#3: 1, 3)1+1=2 Successes. (Campfire: 2, 2)2+1=1 Failure.
(+5 to Kindle Spinner)
(+2 to Firebomb Strike)
(+2 to EWC)
0~0~0
(Hamr Training: 5, 5, 4, 5, 6, 4, 5, 3, 4, 6, 5) 18 Successes
(+18 to Hamr)
0~0~0
(Hugr Training: 3) 1 Success. (Weaponcraft: 5)2+1=3 Successes. (Wildcraft: 4)1+1=2 Successes
(+1 to Hugr)
(Weaponcraft Rank Up!)
(Wildcraft Rank Up!)
0~0~0
(Fylgja Training: 5) 2 Successes
(+2 to Fylgja)

Spoiler: Farmlife

(Improve Your House: 3)1+4=5 Successes. (Improve Basic House #1: 1, 1, 1, 2, 1, 4, 6)2+4=2 Successes (Workshop: 5)2+4=6 Successes (Barn: 3)5 Successes (Storehouse: 3, 3, 2, 2, 4, 5)7 Successes
(+5 to Upgrading Your House to Good)
(+2 to Upgrading Basic House #1 to Decent)
(Decent Workshop Built!)
(Decent Barn Built!)
(Decent Storehouse Built!)
0~0~0
(Cloth: 6, 6, 6, 4, 2, 2, 6, 2)24 Cloth
(+24 Cloth)
0~0~0
(Clearing Fields: 4+2=6 Successes)
(Field #2 Cleared!)
(Field #3 Cleared!)
(+1 to Clearing Field #4)
0~0~0
(Rooster: 1st Hen: Fine Rooster. 2nd Hen: Good Hen. 3rd Hen: Superior Hen. 4th Hen: Fine Hen) (Bull: 1st: Superior Cow. 2nd: Decent Bull. 3rd: Good Bull) (Ram: 1st: Fine Ram. 2nd: Fine Ewe. 3rd: Decent Ewe. 4th: Good Ewe)
(1 Fine Rooster, 1 Superior Hen, 1 Fine Hen, 1 Good Hen will be added at the start of next year.)
(1 Good Bull, 1 Decent Bull, 1 Superior Cow will be added at the start of next year)
(1 Fine Ram, 1 Fine Ewe, 1 Good Ewe, 1 Decent Ewe will be added at the start of next year)

0~0~0
Aspects shenanigans
The spot under the ash is coated in layers of crisp leaves that crunch under your, Abjorn, and Stigmar's shoes as you march up to your research spot.

"What do you need us to do?" Stigmar asks as you come to a stop in the middle of the stone. Abjorn glances around, taking in the place that you've been spending a lot of your time as of late.

"Just stand there, keep guard." Your anxiety is climbing sky-high, a mix of pregnancy-sourced hormones and also just general nerves. "I'm gonna try something that might be... Well, it'll leave me vulnerable to attack and, well..." you shrug as Abjorn and Stigmar nod, understanding clear in their eyes.

A light flush passes over your cheeks as you sit down on the crunchy leaves. "Just, uh," you chuckle, embarrassment heating your chest, "don't look at me while I do this."

Your guards politely avert their gaze to their weapons in hand.

After waiting a moment to make sure they keep their damned eyes away, you nod, slowly, and stoke your Aspects.

Virthing and saemd quickly return to their woven glory as they wrap around body and soul in turn. They sit there, waiting patiently for what you suspect to be frami.

Slowly, ever so slowly, you stoke your frami and erupt into crimson flames as you carefully guide it down into your barren, empty soul.

Swallowing a gulp, you allow its fire to touch the woven length o-

You blink as you're shaken awake. Stars swirl in your vision as you turn to lock eyes with your husband.

"Halla! Are yo-" A shallow frown passes over his face as his brows furrow into a deep valley on his head, "...your eyes... they're red."

Staggering on rubbery limbs over to where the small stream trickles from the ash, you peer down into the clear, reflective waters. Sure enough, in twin seas of steel floats a pair of infinitely thin rings of softly glowing red.

The same red that colors runes.

"How long was I out?" Your words are barely a whisper, yet Abjorn at your side is more than close enough to hear. Stigmar stands a few feet away, hand on sword and shield at the ready as he scans the trees for any hint of an enemy.

"Out?" Abjorn tilts his head to the side, clear confusion in his gaze. "You were sitting still for no longer than an hour until... well, until you started spasming and frothing at the mouth," he shudders, shoulders quaking as he breathes shakily, "I... I was so scared."

You press your nose to his chest as you embrace him as tight as you can. Bones creak painlessly as he returns the favor.

'Halla, take a look at this,' Blackhand's words are faint, strained even, as he 'motions' for you. Turning your gaze inwards, you find yourself looking upon a low, sloping hill that dominates the center of your newly alive soul. It seems to almost invite you to to climb to its peak, so you do.

The entire field hums with waking power as you find yourself standing before an empty crater at the peak of the hill — dozens of times deeper than you are tall. At the very bottom of the crater is a small pool of red power that slowly, gracefully flows in tiny waves.

"What... what is this?" Your words are a murmur against your lover's chest.

'I don't know, or maybe I did, once,' Blackhand admits almost reluctantly, 'all I know now is a name, the name of that liquid;'

Odr

Even the name of it almost thrums with power. Merely speaking it brings visions of might and power, of conquest and bloodshed, of manic insanity deciding the next course of action.

"Where did it come from?"

'The Gate. It opened when your frami touched the woven strand and through it flowed odr. After some time, the thread began to unravel and... well,'

You know what happened after that. It's the reason why you're in your husband's arms.

'I managed to close the Gate before anything truly bad happened, but it was a near thing.*'

If Blackhand hadn't been able to close the Gate...

You would have died, this you know.

How? Why? This you don't.

(Congratulations, you are now a true and proper Cultivator)
(You have 8 motes of odr)
0~0~0
Bible Study Time
Sitting down with Jerasmus before you, he begins to read the Bible to you.

...So, the Christians' God created their world in six days? Out of nothing?

That's kinda lame. At the very least he could've used the corpse of something he killed!

The more you learn of their God — who lacks a name! — the happier you are to have been born Norse.

(+1 progress made to understanding the Bible. ??? left)
0~0~0
Gabriel and his armor
Gabriel's eyes shine with happiness as he stretches and limbers up, his armor sitting in the chest before him.

"So... are you going to need any help putting it on, or?" Head tilting to the side, you watch as Gabriel waves off your question.

"If this were normal armor, absolutely," he picks the helmet — a blank, unadorned piece of curving iron, "but this is Knightly Armor."

"And that means what, exactly?" With a chance to learn about the armor of a Knight, how could you let it slip through your fingers?

"A lot," he dodges the question, but not on purpose, "but, most relevant to the situation at hand, is that it can do this!"

Blinding power flares and forces you to look away lest you be blinking spots for the rest of the day. When it clears, the chest is empty and Gabriel is encased in gleaming, white iron.

The armor is completely different. Where once it was bland and blank, it now bears starbursts and crosses. A long length of red feathers flows from his visor-up helmet — long enough to touch against the ground. A cape hangs from his off-hand shoulder and looks to be easily detached in a fight.

The only thing missing from the ensemble is a sword. Unfortunately, you've no swords on hand to give him. After all, the only swords not in use are the ones that will be going to your sons — the one that Abjorn retrieved for the wedding and, of course, Wanderlust.

"So, do you think that you'll be able to help me with the meteor?" You ask as Gabriel barely pays attention to your words, enamored as he is with the ease of movement.
(Hugr (Silver-Tongue): 3, 3, 5, 5, 1, 1, 5, 2, 2, 3) 5+5(Armor)=10 Successes
He pauses as you finish speaking, clearly not enamored enough to miss all your words.

"From what you've told me of the meteor," he sighs, "I can open it, but I'm going to have a heavy price to pay."

"And what is that price?"

The wind stops as his words start.

"Zeal."

(Gabriel has agreed to open the meteor)
0~0~0
Consulting Jerasmus
"I will not be able to teach you Latin, my dear Halla," Jerasmus says the moment you entered the clearing he'd set up shop in. You hadn't even opened your mouth! "But I will be able to read to you that Bible you possess."

"H-ho-" You take a step back as he chuckles and opens a single, blazing white eye.

"I am a man of God, my dear Halla. Did you really think I wouldn't be able to feel the teachings of my faith on your person?"

You shuffle, a little bashfully. "Well... I didn't want you to think I did anything... to a church."

Technically, that's the truth!

"We both know that that's not the whole truth," he shakes his head slowly as you flush with red hot embarrassment. He cuts off your stammering excuses with a single, raised palm facing your way. "I know full well the things you have done and I find them... morally questionable, but you do show promise."

For some reason, you feel as if you avoided something rather bad by your choices on the raid.

(Jerasmus is now reading the Bible to you)
0~0~0
Investigating Steinby
Your father's farm comes into view as you round the corner.

The moment it does, you're struck by a sense of melancholy.

Sten stands in the door to his forge, letting his skin drink in the cool air after a day in the forge. His hair is full of metal flakes and skin is covered in soot and ash. He nods your way, obviously requesting your presence.

Asva is coming from the barn, buckets of milk in her hands as she makes her way to the farmhouse — where your father resides. Her face is a mask of steely determination, cold and unrelenting and unstoppable in purpose. She's not letting your father die of something as pitiful of starvation of all things!

Drifa sits alone in an unharvested field, picking at something sprouting from the ground. It looks to have a strange sparkle to it, like something truly magical.

Who do you wish to speak to first?
[ ] Sten, at the forge
[ ] Asva, with the milk
[ ] Drifa, in the field
[ ] Forgo speaking with them and go straight to the farmhouse, where everyone else sits.

0~0~0

AN: It'll be nice to have a small break from number plotting.

Anyways, once I got past the dice part it came quickly. Which is nice.

No moratorium and a short voting period. I expect one more update today.

I think I'm going to stop the progress updates, they're causing me undue stress.

 

[I.F. Ister]

Talking to Drifa
Drifa crouches in the middle of the field, hands on her knees and shoes flat against the ground. Golden stalks of grain that should've been harvested by now sway to and fro as gusts of wind playfully bat at healthy, red strands of hair.

Drifa's dress — of soft blue, woolen make — is spackled with mud and dirt, more than enough evidence of the kind of things she likes to get up to. A girl after your own heart.

"How goes it, cousin-mine?" Drifa perks up as your words reach her ears. Springing to her feet — which sends her shooting well beyond the grain-ears — she bounces to a stop before you as her hair whips in the wind.

"Halla!" She sings your name as she wraps her arms around your waist — and the baby bump slowly, but steadily, growing from your stomach. Ever since the battle with the nisse-turned-monstrosity, she's practically worshipped the ground you walk on. She's even gone as far as claiming one of the larger Asvir boys as 'her Abjorn', not that she really understands what such a thing means.

Fortunately, Sten took it in good humor and didn't do anything untoward after tracking the boy down and cornering him in a dark alleyway. So that's nice.

With a slight surge of strength, you peel your niece away from your unborn children. While she would never mean you or them any harm, she is young and simply doesn't know her own strength. She's surprisingly strong for her age, as many of the Asvir boys perilously learned.

Casting your gaze past the smiling face of your eldest niece, you lay eyes on the greenery she had been studying. It's a tiny growth, a spring shoot far out of season. It won't survive the winter, so what has it capturing Drifa's attention so?

Crouching down beside Drifa, you jerk a finger at the plant — the ground surrounding it heavily scorched and lightly smoking. "What've you got here?"

"A plant!" She says matter-of-factly, her hands on her hips and pride in her spine. "A magic one!"

A brow arches upon your face. You don't doubt her, she's not one to tell tall tales, but children often find many mundanities magical, "a magic plant? What makes it magic?"

"Because it keeps living after I burn it?" She looks at you like you're the silly one.

The right brow joins its brother high on your head. If that's the case... it truly would be magical. "Can you show me?"

She grins, big and wide, as she rolls up a slightly singed sleeve. Crimson orthstirr sparks as licks of flame ignite in her palm. Thrusting her palm forward, she drenches the little sproutling in crimson fire.

This continues on for a few seconds as the ground darkens ever further. By the time the flames let up, the plant is as fine as ever. In fact, it almost seems to be better, to be slightly bigger than it was before.

You find yourself doubting that such a thing is your kin, so how can it thrive in fire?

What is this plant?

"See?" Drifa gestures at the plant, her palm smoking painlessly as she points, "Magic."

You nod almost absent-mindedly as Blackhand begins to speak, the lesson clear even before words leave his 'lips.'

'In order to understand the unknown, you must engage it with all of your senses. Touch, Sight, Hearing, Smell, and, last of all, Taste.'

Your lips curl down as you regard the small hint of unmarred green peeking from the scorched ground. Do you really want to eat some random seed?

[ ] Of course you do, why is this even a question?
[ ] Pass on this for now, go talk to someone else or enter the house
-[ ] Sten, at the forge
-[ ] Asva, with the milk
-[ ] Enter the Farmhouse

0~0~0

AN: Not much to say here.

No moratorium and short voting period.

 

[I.F. Ister]

You eat the plant, because of course you do
With a heavy sigh on your lips, you scoop up a handful of dirt and pick the seedling from its earthy tomb.

Drifa watches intently as you hold it this way and that, watching as the sun shines down and the grain stalks sway in great waves of gold.

The plant's sole leaf has a strange pattern to it. Faint orangey spirals dance up and down its green surface. Smaller, fainter patterns of swirling shapes run along the infant stem. The leaf is soft to the touch, as is fitting with something new to the world, but the forked, spiky ends have already gained a simple poking firmness that tells of a hardy nature taking root.

The seed itself is an orange ball of hardened wrinkles split nearly in half by the stem. A trio of itty-bitty roots clinging to nothing but soil grains shoot out from the sides and bottom.

Feeling a little bit silly, you lift it to your ear and...

You pause as a sound almost reminiscent of a crackling hearth on a cold winter morning reaches your ears. It reminds you of the time you were sick. When the fire in the stone-ringed hearth kept you warm, keeping your sickness at bay just as the medicine did its work.

It smells of a warm fullness with slight hints of some kind of fresh fruit. There too is a slight woodiness alongside a strange lick of metal. Other smells float around, none of which care to reveal their truth to you.

Hearing and smelling done, you're left with the final piece on the docket...

Drifa's eyes widen as you gather yourself and steel your spine. You will not look silly, you will not!

Lifting the seed high above your head, you tilt your face to the sky and open wide, tongue lolling out from your mouth. A heartbeat passes as the seed dangles from pinched fingers before, in an instant, you let it fall free.

It drops into your waiting maw, smears across your tongue, and then slides down your throat. It's not easy to swallow it, but you do as the flavor quickly spreads all around your mouth.

Face pinching, you wince as you discern the taste.

It has a sweet and woody flavor but feels almost as if someone had punched you in the mouth moments before. It's almost warm and leaves a tingling feeling as it passes down your throat and into your stomach.

But...

It vanishes before ever reaching your gut.

Into your soul it goes, where it rolls down the hill before finding a nestled spot in a soil-filled crevice. It takes root immediately, your soul just barely fertile enough to support a new resident in the mix.

You get the sense that you're going to have to take care of it, like a farmer would his... crops...

Hmm, there's something there, you can feel it hinting at the edges of your mind.

'All Norsemen, from the highest kings to the lowliest Thralls, are what, Halla?'

"Did you really just eat that?" Drifa asks, an incredulous arch to her brows. Her words dash Blackhand's from your mind as you flinch.

An embarrassed heat rushes across your cheeks as you stammer, clutching at the folds of your dress. "H-how else was I supposed to figure out what it was?"

Drifa quirks her head. "Well? What is it?"

You blink, not having expected that question.

What do you name this plant?
[ ] Write in

And after that, what do you do next?
[ ] Talk to Asva, with the milk
[ ] Talk to Sten, at the forge
[ ] Go ahead and enter the house, where Steinarr awaits.

0~0~0

AN: And now you've got a plant in your soul.

No moratorium, maybe a third update. We'll see how things play out.

 

[I.F. Ister]

Talk to Sten, at the forge
"Obviously," you draw the word out as you assume a lecturing posture, "it is a Hearthroot."

Drifa quirks her head to the side, as if silently judging the name. After a few moments of this, she shrugs a nod as she accepts it. "That's a good name."

You smile as you clap the dirt from your hands. With Drifa in tow — she had very suddenly found herself with nothing to do — you make your way to your brother and her father, Sten.

Sten's beard is a bit scruffier than it normally is. That's the first thing you notice.

The second is that his eyes are bloodshot while Drifa's are her normal steely gray. Strange, children tend to be more susceptible to magic, thanks to not having the mental resistance that age brings to such things. For her to be fine while her father isn't... that implies something odd is going on. Well, something odder than you expected, at least.

"Good, you came," Sten runs a hand through his hair as he scowls, picking out flakes of metal from his shoulder-length hair, "I was beginning to think you never got my message."

You blink, mind gearing up as your heart starts to race. Is this the Enemy making a move? "I never got a message."

His scowl deepens as his teeth grind together. "Damn, it must have been intercepted..."

He mutters something about 'not having many carriers left', but you're too relieved by it merely being the work of some foe rather than the Enemy to take proper notice

Drifa looks between you and her father, confusion sparking in her eyes.

"If I had gotten the message, what would it have said?" A breath of ice floats across the back of your neck as Sten glances over his shoulder.

"Dad's been cursed, in a big way." His words are sharp and harsh, but they get the point across.

Dread grips your heart as your pulse quickens once again. "Cursed? How?"

"The land spirits have been driven into a frenzy and are taking it out on dad and the farm, they're slowly driving him mad."

"How do we stop this curse?"

He scowls, a heavy sigh escaping free. "I wish I knew more about curse breaking, but what little I know... There has to be an anchor of some kind, you don't get something like this without one. It's probably in the hills, as when I went looking for it..." he pats his leg, a grim look on his face as he continues, "a troll bit my leg off." You share a wince with him as Drifa listens closely. "I managed to drive it away and get my leg back, but it was a near thing."

"And if there's anything more than that, you won't be able to do it on your own," you finish for him as he nods.

"I wish I had another option, other than you," his eyes trace the growing bump on your stomach, "but I don't know how much more dad can take before he snaps."

"Why not Abjorn, or Gabriel?" He shakes his head as you ask, in your opinion, very reasonable questions.

"I... I didn't think of Abjorn," he eventually admits, the bags under his eyes seeming rather dark and heavy, "and Gabriel... Steinarr enthralled him, why would he desire to fight on his behalf?"

"Maybe because he swore an oath?"

Sten scoffs, "And why would he do that?"

You shrug, "Christians are weird."

Sten nods, a needed laugh on his lips, "Aye, that's the truth there."

You scowl as the conversation slows down, it all hinging on you and your decision.

What do you do?
[ ] Gather your kin and kith and go hunt down the source of this evil
-[ ] (Optional) Write in who goes with you (Sten is automatically here)
[ ] You... you can't do this, not right now, not while pregnant (Sten goes without you)
-[ ] (Optional) Try to convince Sten to wait until you give birth (Hugr (Silver-Tongue))
-[ ] (Optional) Though you can't fight in melee, you can still support from afar with your various ranged tricks (Also write in people who come with you. Sten is automatically here)

(Hearthroot added to Soulscape, in Overview)
0~0~0

AN: It was a good thing you went with this one, as Asva would've dragged you inside to meet with Steinarr. But then again, you would've been able to do epic Norse courtroom drama so you win some, you lose some.

Most problems a Norseman will face can be solved by sticking axes in other peoples' faces. Now, this may bring more problems with it, but the first problem is still solved.

No moratorium, normal voting period.

 

[I.F. Ister]

Spoiler: Hunting Down the Source of this Evil

[X] Gather your kin and kith and go hunt down the source of this evil
-[X] Bring Abjorn, Gabriel, and the Brothers Stig with you and Sten. Offer an invitation to Aki to come along--you got a good example of how helpful a strong Fylgja can be during the Raid, and you've never seen someone with better ability given his age--even if all it can contribute is its eyes in the sky and Aki's own cleverness and sensitivity to more esoteric things, it'll be a boon for tracking the source of the Curse quickly. As for yourself... You know your condition well, you'll come along and do your best to provide ranged and defensive support with your Hugareida rather than immediately charge in, but you won't rule out taking attacks of opportunity if you think you can tilt the scales safely.
-[X] Send a runner to Halfdan's Farm, ask him to protect your home while you're busy investigating this Curse issue, you don't want to leave anything to chance with this kind of sorcery in play.
-[X] Lay out our backup swords, let Gabriel borrow whichever one he thinks is best

0~0~0

With faces carved from stone, seven warriors stand side-by-side in the gaze of uncaring fates.

Shoes crunch through piles of fallen leaves as kin and kith march towards the hills, where the pallor of evil hangs like a specter over the home of your father. Each step is harder than the last, but the paltry efforts of a quail-hearted spirit like this cannot even slow the march of dead-set heroes.

When the cry for aid rang out, all who heard answered the call.

First and foremost is the Giant-Blooded Abjorn Vidsson, always faithful, always quick to act. He bears the sword Avow, forged from Steel in the home forge of a Master Smith. Hair like spun gold falls from his handsome head as he turns his unrelenting gaze to the dark horizon looming in the distance.

Next to him is Stigr Kersson, the spear-wielding, arrow-sailing, ever-smiling, lucky devil of a man. With one hand on the rune-carved bow Shivershot and the other on the twin arrow sheaves hanging from the silver-buckled belt, he marches ever onwards with that same, easy-going smile on his face.

His brother, Stigmar Kersson, is at his side. The oath-keeping shield-bearer may not be the strongest of all those marching this day, but he stands on his own two feet and marches ironclad purpose in his stride. His sword shines naked as he stands ready for anything the fates may throw his way.

Following the huskarl's steps comes the youngest of the band, Aki Runson. Blind he may be, but before the call could even reach him, he was already eagerly waiting with axe and shield in hand. Where once stood a War-Raven now stands the blood-soaked, blade-eyed figure of a Sword Raven. Its wings stretch longer than Abjorn is tall and its feathers shine sharper than any mortal blade.

Even in as eclectic band as this one, there stands the odd one out. Gabriel Blackstone, Squire on the Eighth Bead of the Second Decade, is a Christian in a Norse land. Not only is he a Christian, but he is a Christian who trained to fight Norsemen — to be here now, fighting alongside them, must feel like walking in a dream. His armor gleams with polished iron and white colors. The crest of his house, a lion with a sword of blazing black fire, stands proudly on the red length of cloth covering his chest armor. A long tail of red feathers sprouts from the top of the visor-masked helmet, the eye-slits facing forward as he marches with Wanderlust in hand.

Leading the way at the front of the pack is a brother, a father, and a son all mixed into one stoic person. Sten Iskearauta is his name and working iron is his purpose. Whether that be in the forge or working iron through the skulls of those who would dare threaten the safety he so desperately killed for. With skin as strong as iron, he keeps his mind steady on the goal ahead of him and off the thought that he may be making a widow of his wife and half-orphans of his children.

And as the woman responsible for bringing this band of deadly warriors together, you, Halla Longstride, take your spot between your husband and your brother. Pregnant as you are, taking part in the chaotic whirlwind of a melee battle may be beyond your capabilities, but that doesn't mean that you're helpless! Far from it, as the many corpses in your wake learned moments before death.

Together, you march to save your father and his home.

No matter what may be set before you, you won't be returning home empty-handed.

0~0~0
(The Presence of Abjorn or Aki alone would have made searching for the source a non-issue. Having them both means that you find it quicker)
Sten scowls as he rests an arm against the trunk of a sway-backed tree, the setting sun shining in the distance. You stand a step away, your face equally grim as you too eye the obstacle before you. The rest of the band scatters around you, each watching with careful eyes.

Working in tandem — Abjorn using his nose and Aki his nascent Seersight — your friends managed to track the source of the evil to a rather large hill. Specifically, it's coming from the top, from a rotting horse skull mounted on a rune-carved length of wood.

"A scorn-pole," Sten spits out the words with an evil hiss. They set your teeth to grinding and cause your eyes to flash with anger. "So that's what has the land spirits in a frenzy."

A scorn-pole is a way of forcing curses upon those it is directed towards — curses and nid, depending on the reason. For such a thing to be erected not only on your father's lands but also pointed at your father's home, there would need to be a potent, heavy reason for it. A reason that simply doesn't exist.

To erect a scorn-pole at all is a grievous breach of the law, for it disrupts the spirits of the land and risks sickness and famine for even those not afflicted by the scorn-pole's hollow gaze. The punishment for such a crime is nothing less than a full outlawing, a total banishment from society.

"How much do you wanna bet that the troll is in that cave?" Stigr jerks a hand at the cave mouth exposing the underside of the hill. Unnatural shadows cast an evil gloom over the entrance as hateful wind passes through the opening.

"That's a sucker's bet," Stigmar remarks as he comes to a stop by his younger brother. His eyes are fierce and he stands with body tensed for combat. "I'll bet that the moment we destroy it, though, the troll wakes up and we're in for a fight."

"If we destroy the scorn-pole, will that solve the problem?" Gabriel asks, his helmet held in his hands. "Or will it just make it harder?"

"It will weaken the curse substantially," Aki frowns, unseeing eyes squinting at nothing in particular — his Sword Raven is perched in the tree, its weight causing the branches to creak worryingly, "but anything else depends on the runes and what contingencies there are, if any."

'I recommend making a plan soon, for the sun won't wait forever,' Blackhand says as you silently consider the options before you.

What do you decide to do?
[ ] Destroy the scorn-pole right now while the sun is still up and the troll can't act
+Scorn-pole is destroyed and the curse will be substantially weaker
+Troll will be unable to act until the sun goes down
-If there are any contingencies, then you won't know about them until it's too late
[ ] Study the scorn-pole's runes before making any further action.
+You learn if there are any contingencies in place
-The sun will have gone down, meaning that the troll will be free to act
[ ] Go into the cave and lure the troll out into the sun
+Instantly solves the troll part of the problem if you pull it off
-Involves fighting the troll in its domain
-Has a time constraint
[ ] Lay traps outside the troll's cave
+If it works, it'll give you free reign to study the runes to your heart's content
-Sun will have gone down by the time you finish laying the traps
-No way to guarantee that the troll will trigger the traps
[ ] Part of the band lays traps outside the troll's cave while the other study the runes
+Both parts of the problem are solved
-But they're solved much slower, meaning that it is entirely possible that neither get done in time.

0~0~0

AN: I had a bit of fun writing the first section of this update, really got to let my verbosity sing. I don't think that I'm especially good at describing things, so it was nice to get a chance to work at it.

Fair warning; trolls aren't slouches in combat. In fact, they're very, very deadly foes. I would put them at generally low-ranking Knight-tier enemies.

25-minute moratorium, to let you think of all the possibilities.

 

[I.F. Ister]

Part of the band lays traps outside the troll's cave while the other study the runes
You, Aki, and Stigr overlook the efforts of Abjorn, Gabriel, Stigmar, and Sten as they work to trap the cave's yawning maw.

The men work with iron shovels curtesy of Sten. He had flexed his hands, let his orthstirr sing, and then produced a small handful of tools. He passed them out to the men before getting to work digging pitfalls and filling them with iron spikes — also curtesy of Sten.

Your face twists into a scowl as Abjorn flings a shovelful of dirt over one shoulder. Damn this pleasant breeze and cool weather! If it wasn't here then neither would Abjorn's shirt!

'He definitely doesn't lack,' Blackhand muses, as he so often does when your thoughts turn to your prodigious husband.

Regardless of your internal griping, you find yourself standing before the scorn-pole, the source of your current misfortunes.

It stinks of death, of rotten waste and of discarded remains. It's a good thing that Abjorn didn't accompany you, as his nose would swiftly have him on his knees. Flies buzz around mostly-rotted flesh as hollow eye sockets greet your approach.

"Hey, Aki..." Stigr bites at his lower lip as he tries to breathe as shallowly as possible, "doesn't your father keep horses?"

"Runar?" Aki quirks his head as his Sword Raven lands beside him, the bird towering over all those present. "Yes, yes he does."

"Do you recognize this one? Seen anything like it?" Stigr shrugs as he runs thumb and finger along his bowstring. "It's a long shot, I know, but long shots are my specialty."

"I don't 'see' anything," Aki scoffs, unseeing eyes staring blankly ahead, "and I don't recognize this one..."

"But?" You take up the slack while Blackhand parses through the runes.

"But, it does seem familiar. Runar hosted a stallion fight some time ago and I remember seeing," he glowers as Stigr laughs, "with my fylgja! Seeing with my fylgja, dammit!"

"What did you see?" You ask while sending a disapproving glare Stigr's way, channeling as much of Asveig as possible. Stigr flinches, your 'mom stare' working wonders.

"I saw — with my fylgja! — a horse that I believe to be this one's sire. A champion fighter by the name of 'Stronghoof'."

With that said, you turn to the pole and read out the runes carved into the wood.

'Let all the Little-Watchers bear witness to Stronghoof's Sireling. Let them know no rest till ESONTRIARWOR is driven from the land in mind, body, and soul. May any who dare disrupt this righteous act have their face suffer worse than the downy-cheeks of RJUNNTABLS. Let all who continue learn the pain of Thorthur Skarfr meeting Helgi Droplaugarson.'

"So..." You begin while running thumb and forefinger along chin and jaw, "who did you say Stronghoof belonged to?"

"A man called Hasvir," Aki says with a shrug. "He didn't give his father's name, but he had a lot of money so Runar let him join. A mistake, turns out, as Stronghoof demolished the competition. Killed three horses before the day was out."

With that, you, Aki, and Stigr all set to figuring out the puzzle laid bare before you.

0~0~0

AN: You have four hours to figure this one out. Successfully figuring each part out before that time will allow you to create a set of runes to defuse/counteract the contingencies.

I'll open voting, though there isn't really anything to vote on. This just serves to give an indicator for when your time is up.

 

[I.F. Ister]

The sun's golden-orange glow shines out over the evening horizon. Every cloud in the sky turns a shade of brilliant yellow, pink, and orange as the sun slowly dips behind far away hills.

It is under these colorful rays that an iron-feathered raven leans over a slab of cut stone. In its beak it holds one of its feathers, which it uses to carve runes into the smooth surface.

"Alright," Aki says, wiping sweat from his brow as he pulls his raven away from his handiwork, "all it needs now is to be colored and we'll have our defusing script." Taking the feather from his raven, he offers it to you on an open palm. "As being a woman means that you're inherently more magical than Stigr or I, it would likely be best if you did the honors."

"And because you're Steinarr's daughter." Stigr adds, bow in hand as he watches the men digging holes with slight jealously in his gaze.

"That too," Aki says, nodding along as you sigh

Carefully — more out of concern for Aki's safety than your own — you take the razor-sharp feather from Aki's patient palm. Breathing in, you close your eyes and place the blade against your palm. Breathing out, you drag the edge across your hand, leaving a warm trail of red in its wake.

Pain stings as warmth pools in your hand. Wincing, you hurry and smear the wound across the waiting runes, filling every nook and cranny with your blood. Finishing the job, it starts to glow with a soft, pleasing-to-the-eye light.

"With this," Aki says as he scoops the slate up and brings it to the scorn-pole, "the security is disabled."

He touches stone to wood and both sets of runes flash bright red as they rush into battle. Fresh blood meets old paint as the winner is swiftly decided and things are said to decidedly not happen, should the scorn-pole be disrupted.

Aki turns, giving you a grin and a thumbs up, which you return with gusto as you stroll on up to the scorn-pole responsible for your father's current pain. Cracking your knuckles, you focus and steady your breathing.

With all set in place, you hone your anger to a bleeding edge.

This work of nid is responsible for harrying your father. For ruining his grief and turning him into a mere hollow shell of a man. No more shall it harass and pain. No more shall it mar these fields of rolling hills and growing grasses.

Orthstirr swirls about you in a vortex of fiery crimson power as your teeth grind together and anger blazes away in your eyes. You take one stomping, powerful step and let loose your wrath. Like a strike of lightning and the power of a raging god, you drive an empty palm deep into the underside of the skull.

A heartbeat passes in slow motion as the skull sits there. Its empty eye sockets bore through your body, through your very being. Cracks begin to form at a very slow, snail-like pace before a sharp snapping sound rings out and, very suddenly, the bone shatters all at once while leaving the pole itself intact.

Breathing in deep, you wait for the countermeasures to do their work. For something, anything, to happen to you.

After several heartbeats of silence, you allow a smile to pass across your face and your body to slump — an unknown weight having been lifted from your shoulders.

Raising your arms into the air, the cheer that passes through your lips is swiftly joined by six other voices and one raven.

And then the sun fully sets.

And then the troll wakes up.

(Palm-Crush Trick, added to Rough Glima Tricks)
(+1 Hamingja!)
0~0~0

Deep in the bowels of the earth, a snoring, slumbering mound of warty flesh and hairy lumps stirs.

Moss and dirt clumps fall from the troll's body as he rises and yawns, stretching his tree trunk-thick arms towards the earthen ceiling. He shakes his head side-to-side, clearing himself of sleep while sending his jowls quivering to and fro.

Working his mouth, he tastes the dryness of the air and the thickness of his tongue. Shrugging, the troll lights a torch with a surge of magic and a warm breath of air.

Light in hand, he begins to plod his way towards the entrance to his home.

It's not the best of places, but with the housing market like it is in Trolltown...

When that strange man approached him with a deal, a house for a favor, he accepted.

The troll shrugs once more. If all he had to do was allow a scorn-pole on top of his would-be-home — for only a month, maybe two at most! — then he would happily pay that price.

Which he happily did.

Shame for the shmuck who the pole targeted, but in the end it had little to no effect on him so what did he care? He got a house out of the deal!

Exiting the cave, he swiftly discovers why caring about others is generally a good idea.

Not that trolls ever really understand things like that.

0~0~0
(Hugr (Tactics): 3, 6, 6, 4, 5, 6, 2, 4, 1, 3) 12 Successes

You and the rest of the band stand atop the hill overlooking the pitfalls. The troll, a mountainous, mushroom-covered, beast of a being, lays at the bottom of the one immediately outside the cavern. He lays atop a bed of iron spikes, each one punching a new hole through his body. He's not dead — trolls are *extremely* resilient! — but he's certainly incapacitated for the time being. With their proclivity towards rapid regeneration, he'll be right as rain as long as he gets out before the sun rises in the morning.

The trick to fighting trolls is, and always will be, catching them in sunlight. You can't kill a troll, not without truly absurd strength, but you can trick them into the sun, where they turn to stone and suffer true death. Their skin is very tough, meaning that mundane strikes have little effect. They are strong, which allows them to deal extra damage on hit. They are, however, not the brightest of minds and will often fall for seemingly obvious tricks.

The troll is damaged, but will heal if given the chance. He isn't able to move or do much of anything, but he can still use his inborn, instinctive magic. His goals will be to get out of the hole, figure out what the heck is happening, and then do something about the situation — in that order. He plans to act with extreme violence both to himself, thanks to trolls having no sense of pain, and to others, thanks to trolls having no sense of empathy.

Your band is right as rain and full of vigor. They look to you for guidance.
-Gabriel (Armed with Wanderlust and wears Knightly Armor)
-Stigr (Armed with Shivershot, the bow, and two arrow sheaves. He also has a spear and shield)
-Abjorn (Armed with Avow and a shield)
-Stigmar (Armed with sword and shield, as well as a sax he picked up in Asvir. Wears a set of short-mail he purchased in Asvir)
-Sten (Armed with sword and a free hand for hugareida. He wears a set of mail he forged as well as a helmet)
-Aki (Armed with axe and shield, as well as his Sword Raven)

Endurance: (5/5) | Armor Health: (8/8) | Shield Health: (NA)
Orthstirr: (230/230) | Odr: (8)
( ) Frami: 77 | ( ) Virthing: 77 | ( ) Saemd: 76
Sagaseeker has 8 orthstirr in its reservoir.
You can put 30 points of orthstirr into your combat pool
Your combat pool is 11d6.

!!The Troll is twice as strong as you!!

What do you do?
[ ] (Plan Name)
-[ ] (Dice) Attack
-[ ] (Dice) Defense
-[ ] (Dice) Intercept
-[ ] (Dice) (Trick) (Orthstirr)
-[ ] Tactics Write in

0~0~0

AN: I've given you a free rough trick in glima as a reward, as well as a point of hamingja. Glima is nice because you can't really lose the ability to do it like you can with weapons being taken away.

I'm pretty sure I've got some math wrong somewhere, so please let me know if I have.

25-minute moratorium.

 

[I.F. Ister]

Spoiler: Trolls Are Not Known For Their Cunning (v2.0)

**[X] Plan: Trolls Are Not Known For Their Cunning (v2.0)**
-[X] Invest 30 dice into combat Pool, 6 into Hugr, 3 each into Tactics, Silver-Tongue, Scouting, and Strategy, 2 into Barb-Tongue, and 4 each into Wildcraft and Wordplay. Activate Probe-Trick and First Impression. (-60 Orthstirr)
-[X] 0d6 Attack
-[X] 0d6 Defense
-[X] 0d6 Intercept
-[X] 41d6 social stuff
-[X] Activate your Twist to generate 20 Dice, Activate Fight Of Your Life to generate 5 dice (-35 Orthstirr). Total of 66 dice to add to the social checks.
--[X] Make sure at least Sten is out of sight (he can hide behind Abjorn if nowhere else).
--[X] "By the gods! What at terrible noise!" you ask--after all, you're just an ordinary woman after all, who would find you threatening. Look down on the Troll. "Oh good heavens Sir Troll! What has happened to you? Who could have done this to you?" (28d6 + First Impression)
--[X] Sweet talk the Troll, let him think that you're just a woman who coincidentally heard his distress. Give a hint that you had no idea such a troll was here, when you were simply exploring the area looking for something or other. Trick him into thinking that he was deceived, baited into a trap by a wicked man. (28d6)
--[X] **See if you can get information out**, (22d6), offer him some dinner as he goes on his way to ideally Repay the Favor of the Treacherous Man who sent him here. (28d6)
--[X] If this works, have him followed in secret by your Fylgja, shrouded from recognition With Covered in Rags (-18 Orthstirr). Equip it with some defensive Tricks if you have time (specifically Sidestep, you'll pull out your spare work knife to make room).
--[X] If this fails and it attacks you, use Halting Vortex (-4 Orthstirr) and pivot to something else while you fall back to where the others are., but the idea of fighting this thing all night if you can turn him into an arrow aimed at the Curse Master tickles you something fierce.

0~0~0
As the troll lays impaled on a bed of iron spikes, an idea springs to mind. An idea so delightfully clever that you can't help but want to carry it out.

'This is a bad idea,' Blackhand mutters as you turn to the crew, who stand with weapons raised and at the ready. Not one of them is going to be pleased with this plan of yours, but you reckon that you can convince them.

"I've got an idea," you announce with a clever grin planting hands on hips. The others lean in to better hear the softly-spoken plan — whispers would only draw the troll's attention.

"Absolutely not," Sten's eyes darken as a glower forms on his face, your words failing to convince him. His lips twist down violently as he crosses his mail-covered arms. "Trolls are monsters and I've seen firsthand what is wrought from their work."

"And what we stand to gain is more than worth the risk!" You whisper-hiss through clenching teeth as your own brows carve a deep valley on your brow.

"The risk of losing you." Abjorn's tiny words catch you by surprise, but you rally and push ahead.

"Nothing's going to happen to me!" You sigh as their faces remain unchanging. You'll have to make some concessions if you want to convince them of your plan. "Fine, fine, we won't do the dinner thing. Happy?"

Sten's shoulders slump as a heavy, long-suffering sigh escapes his throat. "Not in the slightest, but I'll take it."

The rest of the crew reluctantly nods, not one of them happy with the plan, but they slowly concede. More out of a trust that you'll know when to get out of there than any argument that you make, but a win is a win.

With the plan made and settled upon, you nod to yourself as you make your way to where the hill overlooks the pitfall. The troll is thrashing violently as it struggles to free itself from its spiky predicament.

Clapping palms to cheeks, you put on the most hapless voice you can manage.
(Hugr (Silver-Tongue): 6x4, 5x10, 4x2, 3x5, 2x1, 1x6)28+1(First-Impressions)+1(Beautiful)=30 Successes
"By the Gods!" The troll stills and listens intently as you keep speaking in that overly-theatrical voice. "What a terrible noise!"

From your spot upon the hill, you watch as the troll twists around, the spikes leaving bleeding gashes and gaping wounds in its body as it turns its head your way. The monster is... another level entirely of ugliness. The disgusting, lumpy visage before you defies reason and refuses to allow any manner of description to be made.

Deep-set eyes beadily peer from layers-upon-folded-layers of wrinkled, gray skin. Its gaze lands upon your face and flicks down, tracing the outline of your clothes. It seems to drink in your appearance while lingering on certain bodily characteristics.

The feeling of it ogling your body feels like being dipped head-to-toe in grease. Stifling a full-body shiver, you steel your heart and remind yourself of the goals set before you; getting one over on Horra.

"Good heavens, Sir Troll!" It's doubtful that it even knows what 'Sir' truly means, but it seems to get the gist of it, judging by the pleased expression. Its lips curl back in what can only be described as an attempt at a hole-filled, yellow-stained smile. "What happened to you? Who could have done this?"

You're laying it on thick, too thick. But, as the troll's so-called smile spreads ever-further — its mouth is far wider than your shoulders, you realize with a slight shudder — that doesn't seem to matter.

It opens its mouth and a near-visible miasma of foul odors pour forth. A fly follows, buzzing confused around the hill as the troll begins to speak, its voice like a beached whale's last call. "Hello sweet thing."

You swallow the bile creeping up your throat. It burns as you force it back down, tears wetting the corners of your eyes. Breathing in through the nose and slowly exhaling through the mouth, you force your stammering heart back into a steady rhythm.

Its eyes gleam with bursts of lust as you have to repeat yourself, it seemingly having forgotten the words you spoke not one minute before. "I say again, what happened to you? Do you know who could have done this?"
(Hugr (Silver-Tongue): 6x6, 5x3, 4x9, 3x3, 2x3, 1x4)23+1(Beautiful)=24 Successes
The troll frowns, a needed respite from the greedy grin it had been sporting. "A sneaky sort..." it trails off as connections spark in the molasses-like mire of its mind. Its breathing hitches as anger begins growing yet again in its exposed chest. "Like the man who sold me the hill!"

Before you can ask any further questions, the troll yanks an arm away from a group of spikes. Bloody threads of gore link wounds to iron as the troll, in a fit of anger, rams its fist back into the forest of pointed iron. It fails to show any sign of pain as it impales itself once again.

Roaring, it flails hard enough to dislodge the spikes from the packed dirt. Flinging itself up and out of the hole, it stands there like some kind of demented hedgehog as it seethes and clenches its fists over and over again.

Seeing the chance before you, you pull back the proverbial rod and go fishing.

"The man who sold you the hill? Who could that be?"
(Hugr (Silver-Tongue): 6x5, 5x5, 4x1, 3x3, 2x1, 1x7)16+1(Beautiful)=17 Successes
The troll actually pauses in its anger to consider your words. The grindstones in its mind are hard at work processing your question. Its sharply jutting underbite works up and down as it attempts to 'think.' "Drysalt put me in contact with him."

"Drysalt?" You're starting to push your luck, that much is clear. Eventually, the troll will resume its anger and, hopefully, take it out on the hapless Horra.

"Strange yellow eyes. Very untroll-like behavior." And with that, the troll huffs and turns away. "Be back for you."

It then breaks into a sprint, crashing through trees and hills as it moves in a blindingly-fast line north — towards where Horra's farm sits nestled on the border between forest and mountain.

Your hair flutters in the wind it left in its wake. Swallowing down a shaky gulp, you retch as the horrific monster leaves your sight. Eyes screwing shut, the heavy thump of Abjorn landing at your side is a welcome presence in the cold of the night. He wraps you in his warm arms, saying that he's sorry he didn't try harder to stop you.

After who knows how long, you pull away from your bear of a husband. Turning to the rest of the crew, you're met with the sight of a horde of bristling, vengeful men — all of whom care deeply for you.

Sten's entire body near trembles from rage as his eyes gain a deeply unsettling steely hue. Stigmar looks like he's damn near ready to bite someone in half from how hard his teeth grind together. But of all the men who bristle with indignant wrath, two stand out to your eyes.

The first is Gabriel, who seems almost shell-shocked by the troll's manner and actions. There's a slowly growing ember of hate in the back of his eyes, but it's tempered by something unknowable.

The second is your own husband, whose anger you've seen on many occasions. When Abjorn is angry, it's not subtle. Abjorn in general simply isn't a subtle person — how could he be with his sheer size?

Here and now, though? The only feeling he has towards the troll is a cold, calm, matter-of-fact kernel of focused, ever-further-honed fury. When the troll returns, he will kill it. A simple matter, a bargain made and accepted. One moment it will exist, the next it won't.

In that moment, with the knowledge of the lengths he would go for you, you're almost saddened by the fact that you already bear his children.

In the meantime, as the crew all find ways to work off their anger, you cast your gaze to the bundle of rags following the troll in the dark of the night.

On silent wings your owl flies after the troll. Its eyes cut through the malevolent shadows with enviable ease, leaving the troll with no way to hide even if it wanted to as it tramples a path through trees and underbrush.

Not two minutes later, the troll arrives at a large clearing at the very limits of the Hading — where forest green meets mountain stone.

Over a dozen buildings lay sprinkled around the palisade-lined, field-filled land. Lights on torches burn bright as the troll crashes through the log-built gate with contemptuous ease and a snort of warm steam. It crushes a farmhand's chest with an off-hand stomp as it makes its way towards the biggest house in the clearing.

The door slams open and a man who could only be Horra Hasvisson steps out. He's a thin, willowy man of notable height. He seems to stoop everywhere he goes with sunken eyes peering out from a bulbous face.

Horra sneers as the troll skids to a halt, gore still coating the wart-covered, stump-like foot.

"You cheated me!" The troll roars, pointing a short, thick finger as it takes a step towards where Horra stands on his front step.

Horra's conniving eyes dart across the troll's form, taking in every iron spike that hadn't slipped free in the troll's mad charge. The sneer grows as he scoffs. "From the looks of things, you cheated yourself."

His words don't make much sense, but they don't need to. All they needed to do was drive the troll to an angry and foolish state — which they did to perfection.

The troll roars, rearing back a fist and as it throws itself into a whip-fast leap. It tears through the air as its roar tears through its throat. In response, Horra merely holds up a small iron dagger, his mien a calm veneer in the face of such monumental force .

With an arm like thunder, it swings with all its mi-

It stops dead in its tracks as it impales its fist on the little iron knife. Freezing like a naughty child, it stands as still as a statue as light pours from around the knife — sunlight.

It happens in an instant, quicker than the blink of an eye. One moment it's living, breathing flesh, the next it's cold, dead stone.

Horra sighs and waves a hand as he steps aside. "Hasvir, if you wouldn't mind."

Stepping from the shadows of the doorway is a man with a swimmer's build. He inherited his father's height, that much would be obvious to the slightest, most cursory glance from the most casual of observers. Where his frame came from, though, is a mystery.

Hasvir lightly places a palm against the smooth stone of the newly-made statue. Orthstirr flashes and the air turns dry as rushing water erodes the rock away. Bending over, he silently plucks the knife from the puddle and offers it to his father, who takes it with a pleased look on his face.

"You've done well, Hasvir," Horra smiles with honest pride in his eyes as he takes his son by the shoulders, "Just imagining the things you'll do one day... I can't wait to see it."

Hasvir nods, like he's heard it a dozen times over, and you find yourself frowning as your fylgja returns to the Dark Forest and your vision returns to your head.

The stars shine brightly in the night sky — the sun having firmly set over the course of the day's events. You've learned a lot tonight, but it'll be some time until you're ready to use that newly gained knowledge.

At the very least, you'll wait until your children are born. Hopefully, the Nornir find it in them to grant long lives to your children.

In the meantime, it's time to go back to Steinby, to check in on your father and your family.

(+11 Orthstirr)
(+2 to Incomplete Boon: Little Sister's Wisdom)
Pick one:
[ ] Feat: Calmed a troll and redirected it towards an enemy (+3 orthstirr)
[ ] Kenning: Trolltalker - Bonus dice towards social checks with trolls
[ ] Incomplete Boon: Speaking Out of Law - Unlocks certain events and gives bonuses towards socializing with beings outside the law. Unlock by successfully socializing with beings outside the law (1/9)

0~0~0

AN: I had a little bit of fun with the narration today. I also tried a different writing technique that I think works well for me.

Lotta theory and planning fodder to be had in this one, that's for sure!

I know that it was supposed to be goofy funky fun, but it just did not end up that way lmao. My bad there.

No moratorium, but don't be expecting another update today as I, once again, have D&D plans with some friends.

 

[I.F. Ister]

Incomplete Boon: Speaking Out of Law
The cool chill of the evening in winter is the greeting you receive upon returning to your father's home. Flakes of frozen white fall from the laden clouds in the sky as a light dusting of snow covers the ground.

There's a light on in the window and the sound of laughter reaches your ears as the smell of warm cooking tickles your nose.

Steinby is different, now, and as you step past the fence the door swings open and you lay eyes on the source of joyous celebration.

Steinarr, beloved father, fills the doorway with wide arms and a smile on his face. His cheeks lack the gaunt sharpness of starvation and his eyes sparkle with renewed life. But... but even with restored body and returned mind, there's something missing in that nostalgic sea of shining gray, something that won't ever shine again.

Steinarr, your father, is back.

Steinarr Hallsson, the man who was your father, is gone. That man went up in smoke with his wife, with his soulmate, with his Asveig.

"I had wondered who could be responsible for these festivities," Steinarr smiles as he welcomes you into his home, "Welcome, kin and kith and all those standing before me, to a warm hearth and good company!"

A weary cheer goes up as the crew wave their surprised joy in the air. Together, you march passed Steinarr and into his home.

"Halla!" Asva immediately waves you down as you step through the doorway. Arm in arm, she drags you off to where the cooking pot boils and bubbles. Warm steam rises as she bosses you around in that pleasantly familiar way of hers. "I need another set of hands to watch the water."

"Watch the water?" Is that it? Is that really all she wants from you? You've been cooking for Abjorn for the past months and he's never complained!

"Yes, I don't doubt you know how to keep people fed, but we need to keep people happy here."

A sly grin slides up the side of your face as teeth shine in the firelight. It seems that she doubts you, why don't you show her why that's a mistake?

'Kick her ass, Halla!' Blackhand's words aren't needed, but they are welcome encouragement nonetheless.

Cracking your knuckles, you get to work.
(Housecraft: 1, 5, 5, 5, 5, 5, 4, 6, 2, 4, 3)13+4=17 Successes
And the results speak for themselves!

All throughout the hall, your praises are sung alongside Asva, Randi, and Minna's. But even so, the songs sung of you are the loudest and most enthusiastic.

But even though your food is the best, Asva outclasses you in sheer magnitude. Easily triple the amount of food from her alone. While you without a doubt are the better warrior between the two of you, she is the better wife. At least, she will be soon enough if the way she talks of Jordan Halfdansson have any truth to them

Supposedly, she's to marry him when he returns from the next year's raiding. Good for Asva!

Over the hours, though, the feasting begins to slow down as men begin to nod off, lulled to sleep with deep draughts of mead and honey. Soon, the only ones standing are you and Steinarr — you because you are pregnant and Steinarr....

He holds the scorn-pole in his hands, fingers tracing the runes carved into its surface. When and how he got his hands on it is a mystery, but in this the cause has far less importance than the result.

"Halla," his words cut through the warmth and smoke like a scythe through grain, "there is a stench to this wood, to these runes. It is the same stench that clung to the nisse. A stench I could never forget, even if it took me some time to place it."

He stands up and you swallow as he steadily holds your gaze, refusing to break it for even a single flutter of the heart. "I-I buried the nisse."

"I dug it up."

"Oh," you say, your voice small.

"I've been asking around if anyone knows of any shapecrafters in the area, but nobody was able to give me straight answers. Not even the Jarl of Jurgdby could look me in the eye." You can't look away from those eyes of cold steel, no matter how much the desire grips at your heart. "Will you be any different?"

'The marks of our lineage; hair of fire and a gaze of steel.'

"Tell me, loyal daughter, who is responsible for this act? Who is it that I will kill?"

Steinarr Freedfire's words cut straight to the heart of the matter.

What do you do?
[ ] Answer him honestly, like a loyal daughter should, and hope that you can keep him from making a rash decision (Hugr (Silver-Tongue))
-[ ] (Optional) Write in an argument to help bolster the roll
[ ] Break away from his gaze and feel the sting of nid in your soul

0~0~0

AN: I was intending to have this be the last part of this section, but it didn't end up that way. Welp, what can you do?

No moratorium, short voting period.

Originally, I was intending for the refusal option to be odrengskapr, but then I realized that this would be nid. Odrengskapr is failing to act in a dreng way, but not actively in an un-dreng way — which is what nid is.