NorseQuest (A Norse Xianxia)

[I.F. Ister]

Spoiler: Let's Try The Other Thing

[X] Plan Let's Try The Other Thing
-[X] Stoke all our Aspects (+623 Orthstirr)
-[X] 50d6 Attack (42d6 tricks)
-[X] 54d6 Defense (54d6 tricks)
-[X] 0d6 Intercept
-[X] Take the opportunity the pause provides to put 2 Orthstirr into 4 layers of Reinforce Shield (-2 Orthstirr) if possible

-[X] Activate Stoker State Stage 3 (-9 Orthstirr), Slipstream (-8 Orthstirr), and Heated Shroud (-5 Orthstirr). Once we're in melee activate Mire Ward as well immediately (-6 Orthstirr).

-[X] Close with him with a 60d6+5 (w/Hugareida) Sharpenedx24 Lightning-Enhanced Flashfire Cleave w/Puncture (-40 Orthstirr using Sagaseeker's pool), followed by another identical 60d6+5 attack (-40 Orthstirr again), and then use two 50d6+5 Sharpened x24 Lightning-Enhanced Shatter-Wrist Tricks w/Puncture (-35 Orthstirr each), followed by a total of four 46d6+5 Sharpenedx21 Lightning-Charged Skewer-Flick attacks w/Puncture (-35 Orthstirr each) being careful to flick him back and forth within the Mire Ward, and then up to eight 9d6+5 Sharpened x4 Lightning-Charged Basic Attacks (-5 Orthstirr each)

-[X] If he gets away from us, drop Mire Ward, use Ember-Wing Cloak (-6 Orthstirr) to close with him again, and pop a new Mire Ward (-6 Orthstirr) if it took him a meaningful amount of time to get away from it.

-[X] Against the first melee attack he makes against us using Puncture or otherwise avoiding our Perfects make a Contested Movement using both our remaining uses of Fight Of Our Life (-3 Orthstirr, 22d6+5) and counterattack with a Sharpened Lightning-Enhanced Flashfire Cleave w/Puncture (-17 Orthstirr).

-[X] Against any attack not using Puncture or a Fleinn use Halting Vortex (-4 Orthstirr) if possible, against non-Puncture attacks with a Fleinn or that we otherwise can't use Halting Vortex on use Focus Guard (-7 Orthstirr). In response to anything with Puncture or that gets past our Perfects in some other way after the first melee attack use up to three 60d6+9 Reinforcedx42 Slice Aside defenses (-50 Orthstirr each) using 9d6+5 Sharpened x4 Lightning-Charged Basic Attacks (-5 Orthstirr each) as the counterattacks.

-[X] Tactics – Activate our buffs, leap into melee with him, activate Mire Ward, and go to town trying to batter him down, we break his armor, then break his wrists (we will fix them afterwards, free of charge) and then go to town with high damage attacks.

0~0~0

The battlefield-choking smoke clears as you finish applying another few layers of orthstirr-armor. With a long breath, you close your eyes and reach down deep into that vast expanse of your soul's potential. A surge of steel-strong willpower hones your intent to a pointed length as you stoke your power to greater heights.

First comes your frami in the form of a brilliantly blazing aura of crimson-colored fire. Thrashing tongues of writhing flames drill shallow holes in the ground as they kick up ankle-high clouds of grass and dirt. The whips of burning energy stretch out to an arm's length in all directions. It bathes your surroundings in the red glow of a stoking soul.

Next comes your virthing as it unfurls down your shoulders like a waterfall. A cloak of owl feathers, singed at the tips and covered in the ash of the forge. Every step you take shakes soot free of your feathers—the same feathers that grow amongst your hair. A bear's paw of shaped silver shines upon your chest, clasping the cloak closed and keeping it secure against your body.

Finally, the iron lengths of your saemd erupt from your brow. The crown of spikes curves inwards as it grows on your head, each topped with a crimson candle-flame burning fiercely away. The symbols of the ones you love burn themselves into the metal surface, leaving a forever imprint on your soul.

You open your eyes just as the smoke finishes clearing—just in time for the spar to resume.

The ground cracks beneath your feet as you ride a plume of flames into the sky. Sagaseeker purrs like your heart rumbles as he rises high above your head in a Flashfire Cleave. Lightning crackles along his length as his own power stokes his joy to further heights.

But as you fly through the air, so too does Hal. Your cousin bursts from the thin clouds of smoke as you sail well-overhead. You laugh as he looks up and locks eyes with you—it seems you've copied each other!

No matter, though, not for someone as aerially-dominant as you! The air whistles as you twist and redirect the trick to his lower position. Despite the speeds at which you hurtle towards him, he doesn't flinch.
(Sharpened Trick Attack: 219+5=224 vs Reinforced Trick Defense: 211+14=225, Defender Wins, lmao what a close one)
Moments before you make contact, Hal's arms snap to the side as sparks ignite in his empty hands. A pair of explosions rip out from his palms as the recoil throws him away just as Sagaseeker would've struck.

Sagaseeker cleaves a deep crater in the ground as Hal flips through the air. You follow his movement as he alights on the palisade wall—bow in hand and a crimson-coated arrow drawn back to his chest. The arrow flies free of the pinch-hold as it bears down on you.

Though certainly strengthened by orthstirr, the arrow lacks the tell-tale shell of Puncture. Indeed, it clatters harmlessly to the ground after making contact with Halting Vortex. As it hits the ground, the trick fails to fire—an obvious trap that you're not especially eager to spring.

Leaving the arrow no time to trigger, you throw yourself into another Flashfire Cleave. The wind scrambles to get away from your relentless advance as you streak across the battlefield.
(Sharpened Trick Attack: 194+5=199 vs Reinforced Trick Defense: 193+14=207, Defender Wins!)
As Hal dodges to the side with a deft, spinning twirl, it's clear to see that you're not the only one who took the opportunity to buff themselves. He's faster, for one, and his movements have a certain edge to them—as if he had something lighting the way.

Logs snap into kindling as Sagaseeker reduces a portion of the palisade to firewood—when defenses have nothing to protect, their strength falls flat. You plant a foot on one of the few standing posts as Mire Ward spreads out and forces him to match you blow for blow.

Match you he does as, before you have a chance to bring Sagaseeker to bear, he lunges in with an orthstirr-enhanced shield replacing his bow—a Puncturing shield, at that! Fortunately, this was something you prepared well for.

Time slows to a crawl as a burst of flames adds needed speed to Sagaseeker. Twisting on the spot, you prepare to deliver a third Flashfire Cleave right to your cousin's doorstep.
(Unopposed)
Much to your surprised confusion, he makes no attempt to resist your attack. In fact, he almost seems to welcome it!

The shield explodes into splinters as Sagaseeker strikes it. But, despite the power of the Flashfire Cleave carrying him forward, Sagaseeker goes no further—the shield trick stopping him in his tracks.
(Twist: Hidden Blade)
But your eyes aren't locked to Sagaseeker's halted form. No, they're locked to the sax clutched in Hal's hand. It wasn't a replacement—at least, you don't think it was given the timing—the clever bastard just used the shield to hide the sax.

There's nothing you can do to stop the sax from breaking the scant few layers of Reinforced Shield on your armor.

(Round End: Reinforced Shield Broke)
(Unspent Orthstirr Refunded)
0~0~0
(Hugr (Tactics): 6x1, 5x5, 4x2, 3x1, 1x4)11+5+2=18 Successes

You are currently in grappling distance with Hal which has a poor effect on your ability to assess your surroundings. Still, you notice that the fleinn is gone from where it landed—likely recalled to wherever Hal stores his weapons. The arrow he shot is still on the ground, still untriggered.

Hal has more shields, like as not. How many he has is unknown, though he's certainly not regretful over sacrificing them. With how low quality they are, it's clear that they were built specifically for this purpose.

He's not taken any damage from this last round of fighting and he's not leaving you any time to apply more layers of Reinforce Shield. Fortunately, your other buffs carry over from the last round.

He's aiming to ground you before trying to finish the spar.

Endurance: (13/13) | Frenzy: (5/5) (+5 to all Combat Rolls) | Armor Health: (17/17) (+4 to Defense)
Orthstirr: (564/623) | Odr: (16)
(X) Frami: 208 | (X) Virthing: 208 | (X) Saemd: 207
Sagaseeker has 9/49 orthstirr in his reservoir.
Your Armor has 13 orthstirr in its reservoir.
Shapeshifting is granting you (+1 Damage and +1 Attack-Speed)
Your combat pool is 104d6 and you have 0d6 Stoked Dice

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

0~0~0

AN: Hal is a clever combatant, that's for sure.

15-minute moratorium.

 

[I.F. Ister]

Spoiler: You Can't Use Shields Without Wrists

[X] Plan You Can't Use Shields Without Wrists
-[X] 50d6 Attack (46d6 tricks)
-[X] 54d6 Defense (54d6 tricks)
-[X] 0d6 Intercept

-[X] Open up with two 80d6+5 Sharpened x39 Lightning-Enhanced Shatter-Wrist Tricks w/Puncture (-50 Orthstirr each, stoking all Sagaseeker's Aspects and using his Orthstirr for this as much as possible) to break his wrists and stop that shield nonsense, followed by two 78d6+5 (w/Hugareida) Sharpenedx34 Lightning-Enhanced Flashfire Cleaves w/Puncture (-50 Orthstirr each), and then followed by a total of four 65d6+5 Sharpenedx31 Lightning-Charged Skewer-Flick attacks w/Puncture (-45 Orthstirr each) being careful to flick him back and forth within the Mire Ward, and then up to four 9d6+5 Sharpened x4 Lightning-Charged Basic Attacks (-5 Orthstirr each). If at any point he Stokes Aspects to fix his wrists or otherwise make them functional again, or avoids the initial two attacks we will interject with up to six total additional 80d6+5 Sharpened x39 Lightning-Enhanced Shatter-Wrist Tricks w/Puncture (-50 Orthstirr each) instead of other attacks.

-[X] If he gets away from us, drop Mire Ward, use Ember-Wing Cloak (-6 Orthstirr) to close with him again, and pop a new Mire Ward (-6 Orthstirr) if it took him a meaningful amount of time to get away from it.

-[X] Against any attack not using Puncture or a Fleinn use Halting Vortex (-4 Orthstirr) if possible, against non-Puncture attacks with a Fleinn or that we otherwise can't use Halting Vortex on use Focus Guard (-7 Orthstirr). In response to anything with Puncture or that gets past our Perfects in some other way after the first melee attack use up to three 60d6+9 Reinforcedx42 Slice Aside defenses (-50 Orthstirr each, using our Armor's Orthstirr on the first one) using 9d6+5 Sharpened x4 Lightning-Charged Basic Attacks (-5 Orthstirr each) as the counterattacks.

-[X] If we are attacked in melee while we have 6 or more Stoked Dice use Contested Movement (-3 Orthstirr, 8d6+Stoked Dice) and counterattack with a Sharpened Lightning Charged Skewer-Flick w/Puncture (-15 Orthstirr), and abort to a Focus Guard (-7 Orthstirr) if that does not work.

-[X] Tactics – The plan here is to break his wrists, then go to town in melee, breaking them again as needed if he fixes them (the goal here is to only be making attacks that aren't wrist-breaking if his wrists are already broken). Pretty straightforward, really.

0~0~0

There's no time to lose and barely any space to think, so you do the first somewhat rational thing that comes to mind.

Sagaseeker slips free of your grasp.

Atgeirs are the kings of weapons, but they have their weaknesses. Their size is often a potent boon, but that length works against them in grappling-range combat. Fortunately, you came prepared.

Your hands fall to the saxes on your belt and Ashen Kiss is roused once more from its slumber.

Crimson orthstirr spreads across Ashen Kiss' blade as you launch into motion—your reflexive Sharpening leaving the sax nearly shaved to the bone. With Mire Ward still up and halving Hal's speed, you've got the slightest possible edge—but an edge you have nonetheless. In combat, that's often all it takes to win the day.

Ashen Kiss races towards the sax-holding hand at your stomach, but before it can make contact the sax vanishes—leaving Hal's palm empty. The empty hand flies up with fingers splayed wide—not out of a desire to dodge, but to *grab*.
(Sharpened Trick Attack: 252+5=257 vs Reinforced Grapple Defense: 303+14=317, Defender Wins! Attacker is Grappled!)
Hal deftly slips his hand around Ashen Kiss as his orthstirr-enhanced fingers wrap around your wrist with a grip like iron. You try to wrench your hand free, but it's no use. His other hand darts forward and grabs you by the belt—a perfect position from which to throw you.

Of course, such a maneuver takes time, time enough for you to do something about it! Lets see him throw you with a broken wrist!

Your second, lesser sax cleaves down as Sharpen shaves away layer after layer of iron—too much iron, far too much iron.
(Sharpened Trick Attack: 278+5=283 vs Reinforced Trick Defense: 314+14=328, Defender Wins!)
Hal runs his hand along your belt as your sax swings, slipping out of the way moments before you would've hit. A sharp *snap* rings out a heartbeat later as the sax gives out. Pieces of the blade, shattered from over-Sharpening, rain down as Hal plants his feet against the palisade.

In a great show of strength, he hefts you up off your feet—breaking Mire Ward—and hurls you bodily towards the ground.

Your teeth grind together as a sharp shock of pain radiates out from where you landed on your tailbone. Painful, but not life-threateningly so. Planting a hand to the grass, you rise to your feet—only for some unknown instinct to compel your vision to the side.

There, lying next to you in a small patch of well-trod grass, is the arrow Hal shot a few moments before. With your instincts screaming alarm, you scramble away as best you can before its orthstirr surges—the only sign you get before Hal triggers the trick.

The arrow vanishes, but any relief that brings is dashed aside moments later as, in its place, appears an entire sheaf of arrows—already in flight.

With no time to lose and nothing but a sea of basic arrows flying your way, your hand snaps up with Halting Vortex at the ready. Arrows thump and shatter against the wall of stopping force, but each blow costs more of your rapidly dwindling orthstirr supply.

Hal, of course, isn't idling above—to think that of your cousin would be a grave sin. Glancing back towards him, you lock eyes on the tell-tale orb of sparking fury floating just above his palm—a Sparkbomb.

He kicks off the wall in a blur of motion as he races towards you with Sparkbomb in hand. He's not dumb enough to throw it at *you* of all people from range, so the clever bastard's just gonna smack you with it.

Flicking out a set of fingers, you muster your orthstirr to call Sagaseeker with as much speed as you can grant him. He streaks across the battlefield and into your hand—just in time to meet Hal's charge with a trick of your own.

Time slows to a crawl as lightning crackles along Sagaseeker's edge. Either you stop him here and leave him wide open, or you lose.

Only time will tell which it is.
(Halla's Hamr: 34+5=39 vs Hal's Hamr(+Stoker State): 131+6(Frenzy)+1(Buffs)=138, Hal Wins!)
The Sparkbomb stops mere inches away from your eyes as shaved-off beard hairs flutter in the wind. Sagaseeker's haft rests on Hal's shoulder, from where he dodged at the last second.

Hal grins as honest joy sparks in his eyes, "You should probably yield, yeah?"

You laugh and squash the spark of jealous spite urging you to spit in his face, "Yeah... Yeah, I yield."

He extinguishes the Sparkbomb with a clenched fist as his grin broadens into a full-on smile. He claps you on the shoulder and nods, "You're a good fighter, lots to be proud of there."

"You're not so bad yourself."

He laughs, then pauses, "I...," he hesitates for a split-second before making up his mind, "I'm proud to call you my cousin."

"You too," you smile, "cousin."

The battle between Silverscales and Abjorn is still ongoing—they seem to have somewhat similar abilities, which is turning it into something of a slog—which gives you a small amount of time to kill. Time enough to ask Hal some more questions, this time *without* having to watch your words.

What do you ask him?
[ ] Write in (Top 3 Questions)

(After this, you'll receive your sparring rewards as well as the whetstones)
(You're not quite close enough to him to get a glimpse at his muna)

Spoiler: Hal Wolfhound

(16/16) Endurance | (6/6) Frenzy (+6 to all combat rolls) | (15/23) Armor, +5 to Defense, 8 to pierce
837 Orthstirr | 2 Odr
Hamingja 18
Hamr 9 | Infusion 7
Hugr 6 | Infusion 6
Fylgjaskinn 10 | Infusion 7 (Porter Blitzingwolf)

Twists
Puncture
Punching Up
Dealt Likewise
Hidden Blade

Hugareida
-Ignition 4
-Emberwind 4
-Campfire 1

Martial Styles
-Stoker State
-Ulfsinsbregda
-Guiding-Light

0~0~0

AN: Not much to say here other then that you'll be leaving Geirstadt next update

No moratorium as I'd like to get another update out today.

 

[I.F. Ister]

Spoiler: Chosen Questions

[X] How does that stuff involving your Fylgja work? It seems different.
[X] How were you pulling out so many shields and weapons? Was that just a lot of Fasts or was there more to it?
[X] How does that Trick that propels your attacks with explosives work? Would you recommend that or any other Tricks?

0~0~0

Sitting side-by-side with your cousin, you watch as Abjorn tears off another of Silverscales' limbs—who simply regenerates it as casually as you please.

"What kind of snake fylgja lets you regenerate like that?" You ask to no one in particular as you squint at the slug-fest of a fight.

"Snakes don't have claws," Hal answers your question as it clicks in your head.

"A lizard, then, and not a snake," your tongue clicks against your teeth as you nod. "Makes more sense, yeah."

"Speaking of fylgjur," Hal begins as he turns to you, curiosity in his eyes. "What's yours?"

"Cindersoot Owl," your fylgja hoots as it shuffles in from the palisade wreckage, "let's me forge better, amongst other things. What about you?"

Hal grimaces as you turn it around on him, "I, uh, I... I've got a Blitzingwolf, which makes me faster and deadlier after I make a kill."

You wait for him to show his off, but nothing appears. You narrow your eyes and push the topic, "So, the armor summoning thing you did during the spar, that was part of your fylgja, right?"

He blinks, honestly surprised, "You caught that? Well..." he laughs and shakes his head, "Forgive me if I don't show it off, I like to keep things close to my chest and, well, we've got watchers," he nods towards your felag. "But, I'll tell you about how it works, if that's okay?"

You shrug, not particularly caring if he wants to show off or not, "Sure."

"At a certain level of fylgja refinement, you get the choice to turn your fylgja into a fylgjaskinn, which allows you to wear your fylgja like a sort of second, regenerating skin." Your eyebrow rise high as you hear 'regenerating'. "'Course, it stops it from being able to do its early-warning stuff, plus it's a real pain if you die."

"Does it help with retrieving stuff from its storage?"

He winces, "I... Look," he leans in as anxiety plays across his face, "I'll only tell you this because you're family, but I can't tell you anymore or else I'd be betraying my brother's hard work, alright?"

"...Alright."

He nods, accepting your word as is, "That ability you saw, of me retrieving stuff quickly, is a result of the Ulfsinsbregda, the core martial style of the Ulfhednar Warband. It allows for instantaneous management of storage spaces, including your fylgja and fasts and what have you." He laughs as something comes to mind, "I can even drink water without opening my mouth!"

The conversation turns to other topics soon after, like the trick he used to speed up his attacks. That trick, apparently, is called 'Firebomb Boost' and was actually repurposed from the Firebomb Strike trick.

Funny how those things turn out, eh?

(Ignition Ranked Up!)
What would you like as your reward?
[ ] (POV) The Man Who Would be Crowned
[ ] (POV) The Loyal Hound of Vestfold
[ ] (POV) At the Side of a Half-Dead King
0~0~0

After loading several hundred sacks of high-quality whetstones on board the Wavedancer, you're left with an opportunity to plan the next leg of your journey.

(+2000 Units of Whetstones)
(+35 Orthstirr for a job well done)
Destination (Pick 1)
[ ] Jurgdby (2 Days, West)
[ ] England (10 Days, West)
[ ] Denmark (2 Days, South)
[ ] Lotharingia (5 Days, South-West)
Personal (Pick 1 for each Day spent traveling, to a minimum of 1)
[ ] Talk to a Crewmember
-[ ] Write in who and about what
[ ] Pay Close Attention to a Crewmember
-[ ] Write in
[ ] Talk to the Seeress
-[ ] Write in one thing
[ ] Craft or Repair
-[ ] Write in
Training (You get 17 Training Dice per day spent travelling, x1.5 thanks to Determination From Defeat)
[ ] Training
-[ ] Write in
0~0~0

AN: I shouldn't write when it's this late, honestly, it makes me rush.

No moratorium.

 

[I.F. Ister]

(Current Turn: Summer 9/Turn 3 | Days Until Winter 9/Turn 1: 48/60)
(You Cultivate 20 Odr)

Spoiler: Off To England

[X] Plan Off To England
-[X] England (10 Days, West)
-[X] Talk to a Crewmember (x1)
--[X] Heima Smiles
--[X] See if we can get to know him better
--[X] Use Goal-Tell to help with this
-[X] Talk to a Crewmember (x2)
--[X] Eric, our brother.
--[X] Discuss sailing and shipboard skills and ask him what's going on with Kyrsvikingar politics back home
-[X] Talk to a Crewmember (x3)
--[X] Vagn Wheel-Drifter
--[X] Attempt to make closer friends with him
-[X] Talk to a Crewmember (x4)
--[X] Stigr
--[X] Check in with him, see how things are doing, ask his advice on Shoot Tricks
-[X] Talk to a Crewmember (x5)
--[X] Jordan Slicksword, our brother in law
--[X] See about getting to know him better
-[X] Talk to a Crewmember (x6)
--[X] Tryggr & Trausti
--[X] See if they have any specific stuff they want to do in England, try and convince Tryggr not to do anything too unfortunate
-[X] Talk to a Crewmember (x7)
--[X] Stigmar
--[X] See how he's been doing and if he has anything specific he wants to do in England.
-[X] Talk to a Crewmember (x8)
--[X] Gabriel Blackstone
--[X] Remind him that he is welcome to stay with us if he wants to come back to Norse lands, and just talk to him about how he's feeling. He's clearly not entirely okay
-[X] Special Note: Using Tenderizing Roast on all these conversations for which it is an available option.


-[X] (Research)
--[X] Attempt to figure out how to use our Fylgja's Capacity to hot swap items while it is within our soul, using our Armory Pocket and the Fylgja's own Fasts as potential intermediaries 1d6
---[X] To expand on this a little, if the Fylgja, while in our soul can insta-swap what's in the Armory Pocket for things in its own Capacity, then we can pretty much instantly have anything out of there...it takes twice as long as getting something from our Armory Pocket, but twice as long as instant is still instant. The same if we can access things in the Fylgja's Fasts and it can swap between its Capacity and those.

-[X] Seidr Training (x1)
--[X] Get a set of fylgja-related spells to learn on our own
-[X] Seidr Training (x2)
--[X] Get a set of seidr spells to learn on our own to ward and defend homes and physical spaces

-[X] (Rolled)
--[X] Train Kindle-Spinner 2d6 (1d6) (+1 Success from Born of Fire)
--[X] Train Firebomb-Strike 2d6 (1d6) (+1 Success from Born of Fire)
--[X] Train Ember-Winged Cloak 2d6 (1d6) (+1 Success from Born of Fire)
--[X] Train Tenderizing Roast 2d6 (1d6) (+1 Success from Born of Fire)
--[X] Train Campfire 2d6 (1d6) (+1 Success from Born of Fire)
--[X] Train Hugr itself 178d6 (89d6)
--[X] Train Fylgja itself 2d6 (1d6)
--[X] Train Tactics 2d6 (1d6)
--[X] Train Talent Tell 2d6 (1d6)
--[X] Train North-Know 14d6
--[X] Train Lowest-Limit 12d6
--[X] Train Bone Settlement 9d6
--[X] Train Flap Away 5d6
--[X] Train Glima 36d6
--[X] Train Fang 30d6

--[X] Train a Silver-Tongue trick for helping us when trying to deescalate tense situations or standoffs that are on the brink of violence 14d6
--[X] Train Scouting trick to spot danger and surprises better 6d6
--[X] Train a Tactics Trick for learning a foe's weaknesses rather than strengths (sort of the inverse of Talent Tell) 8d6 (4d6)
--[X] Train a Shoot Trick for enemies at relatively close range or who are expecting it (ie: those Meteoric Shot is bad against) as per Stigr's recommendations 6d6
--[X] Train a Fang Trick to break someone's neck or otherwise do a whole lot of damage to a grappled enemy 1d6
--[X] Train a Fang (or Glima) Trick to respond to an attack with a grapple and then break the limb they attacked with, like Weapon-Grapple Reverse but instead of disarming you break their arm 1d6
--[X] Train an 'Arrest Momentum/Inertia-Cancel' Standstill Trick 1d6
---[X] The idea with this one is to enable us to instantly stop our own movement, including in midair, allowing things like standing on air, double-jumps (or triple jumps and so on), pinpoint turns, and otherwise enhancing our mobility by stopping momentum at will and then being able to start again from that position also at will basically instantly. It would also allow us to make ourselves pretty immovable. Sort of like IAT but only on ourselves and only stopping the movements we want to stop.
--[X] Train a Standstill Trick designed to slow and stop attacks right as they hit, effectively reducing their damage 1d6
---[X] Ideally a short burst of this for greater effect (ie: spend Orthstirr per attack that hits and reduce the damage it deals by, like, 2-3 + Standstill Damage Bonus), but if that's unacceptable, a turn long buff is acceptable (a Trick for DR 1 for a round or something).


-[X] (Blackhand's Training) Try to develop old/train new hugareida tricks
--[X] Talk with Stigr about possible Shoot Tricks useful at shorter ranges, and Abjorn about what additional Glima and Fang Tricks might be available
--[X] Train Halting Vortex 1d6
--[X] Train Atgeir Counter Stab 1d6
--[X] Train Atgeir Bodyguard 1d6
--[X] Train Forceful Lever 1d6
--[X] Train Sailwind 1d6
--[X] Train Scouring Cleanse 1d6
-[X] (Training) Martial Style
--[X] Train Stoker State 1d6 (+1 Success from Born of Fire)
--[X] Train Flame Tending Blade 1d6 (+1 Success from Born of Fire)
--[X] Train Momentum Reversal 1d6
--[X] Train Weapon-Grapple Reversal 1d6
--[X] Train Double-Leg Takedown 1d6
-[X] (Training) Hamr (73 successes to rank up)
--[X] Train Throw 1d6
--[X] Train Backstep 1d6
--[X] Train Long-Lunge 1d6
--[X] Train Sowing Sight 1d6
-[X] (Training) Hugr (53 successes to rank up)
--[X] Train Silver-Tongue 1d6
--[X] Train Facial Schooling 1d6
--[X] Train Light Touch 1d6

-[X] (Capacity Slots)
--[X] Assign Sailwind and Bone Settlement if Hugr hits 8 and gives us additional Capacity and Bone Settlement finishes
-[X] (Assign Hugareida Levels)
--[X] Assign 5 Ignition Levels to Damage
-[X] (Orthstirr Usage)
--[X] 1 Orthstirr to Hamr
---[X] 4 Chop, 4 Defend, 5 Dodge, 4 Bash, 4 Pierce, 4 Throw, 4 Cut, 4 Strike, 4 Shoot, 3 Farmwork, 4 Labor, 4 Overland (48 total)
--[X] 2/3 Orthstirr to Hugr (depending on whether it increases)
---[X] 6 Artcraft, 5 Armorcraft, 4 Barb-Tongue, 1 Composure, 4 Design, 6 Housecraft, 4 Management, 3 Scouting, 4 Silver-Tongue, 5 Sailing, 3 Strategy, 4 Tactics, 5 Weaponcraft, 2 Wordplay, 5 Wildcraft (62 total)
--[X] 2 Orthstirr to Fylgja
--[X] 1 First Impression
--[X] 106 Stored Tricks
--[X] 437/436 free for tricks

0~0~0

Spoiler: Training

Spoiler: Steady Rank Ups

Backstep
Weapon-Grapple Reversal
Double-Leg Takedown

New
(Contention-Connection Trick: 6x1, 5x2, 4x3, 2x3, 1x5) 1 Success. (Give-Away Trick: 6x1, 5x3, 3x1, 2x1) 8 Successes. (Clay-Footsteps Trick: 4x1, 3x3, 1x4) 1 Success. (Heavy-Arrow: 6x1, 5x1, 3x1, 2x2, 1x1) 2 Successes. (Knee-Drop Back-Breaker: 2x1) 1 Failure. (Tight-Squeeze Trick: 3) 1 Success. (Veto-Motion: 5) 2 Successes. (Slowing-Slog: 4) 1 Success.
...
(Vague Silver-Tongue)
(Contention-Connection Trick: Allows you to get a general grasp of the point of contention between two opposing parties without needing them to go over it again. (Rough: 1/3))
(Rough Scouting)
(Give-Away Trick (Cost: 4 Orthstirr/1 Odr): A trick that points out signs of danger. Makes it easier for one's fylgja to give warnings, as well, and this effect improves with refinement. (Refined: 5/6))
(Vague Tactics)
(Clay-Footsteps Trick: A trick that points out points of weakness. (Rough: 1/3))
(Vague Shoot)
(Heavy-Arrow Trick: An archery trick that adds great weight to an arrow, allowing it to punch through shields and deal damage at the cost of range and speed. (Rough: 2/3))
(Vague Fang)
(Knee-Drop Back-Breaker: A throw where the user breaks an opponent's back over their knee. (Rough: 0/3))
(Tight-Squeeze Trick: A defensive trick that can also be used offensively in a grapple to gain an advantage. When an attack is made against the user, the user responds by grabbing the offending limb and squeezing with all their might. (Rough: 2/3))
(Vague Standstill)
(Veto-Motion: A Standstill trick that robs the user of any momentum, stopping them instantly and harmlessly on the spot. (Rough: 2/3))
(Slowing-Slog: A Standstill trick that slows incoming attacks, robbing them of their lethality. This is a very difficult trick to maintain and, as such, cannot be done simultaneously to other tricks. (Rough: 1/3))
0~0~0
Rolled
(Kindle Spinner: 3, 6) 4 Successes. (Firebomb Strike: 6, 3) 4 Successes. (EWC: 2, 6) 2 Successes. (Tenderizing Roast: 3, 4) 3 Successes. (Campfire: 4, 1) 1 Success. (Hugr: 6x33, 5x30, 4x31, 3x34, 2x27, 1x23) 141 Successes. (Fylgja: 1, 4) 1 Success. (Tactics: 2, 2) 2 Failures. (Talent-Tell: 2, 5) 1 Success. (North-Know: 6x2, 5x4, 4x3, 3x3, 1x2) 16 Successes. (Lowest-Limit: 6x4, 4x2, 3x2, 2x1, 1x3) 12 Successes. (Bone Settlement: 4x1, 3x2, 2x3, 1x3) 3 Failures. (Flap Away: 5x1, 4x2, 3x1, 2x1) 4 Successes. (Glima: 6x3, 5x6, 4x9, 3x4, 2x8, 1x6) 17 Successes. (Fang: 6x6, 5x6, 4x3, 3x8, 2x2, 1x5) 28 Successes
...
(+4 to Kindle Spinner)
(+4 to Firebomb Strike)
(+2 to EWC)
(+3 to Tenderizing Roast)
(+1 to Campfire)
(+141 to Hugr, Hugr Rank Up!)
(+1 to Fylgja)
(+1 to Talent-Tell)
(+16 to North-Know)
(+12 to Lowest-Limit)
(+4 to Flap-Away)
(+17 to Glima, Glima Mastery Up!)
(+28 to Fang, Fang Mastery Up!)

Spoiler: Research+Seidr Training

Research
Attempting to make a bootleg Ulfsinsbregda ;P
Over the course of many days, you manage to figure out a way that lets you preform a 'pseudo-Ulsinsbregda' using your fylgja and your Armory Pocket. Essentially, by having your fylgja perch atop the Pocket, you can have it place and retrieve things into it from its own capacity, which you can then retrieve at will.

However, it seems that you can't both retrieve and deposit at the same time, not like Hal can.

0~0~0
Seidr
Get a set of fylgja-related spells to learn on our own
"Today's lesson shall cover some basic techniques to use with one's fylgja." The Seeress' raven stands upright as its magnificent rainbow undertone glows from beneath its dark purple plumage.

(Weighed on the Scales: Your fylgja is, by nature, on the look-out for threats and dangers. This technique simply hones that aspect and focuses it on a single figure, allowing you to get an understanding of the threat they pose)
(Calling for Congress: By having your fylgja make a specific, predetermined call into the fold between worlds, you call specific fylgjur in order to conduct any manner of business.)
(Follower Finds a Friendly Fellow: By giving a spirit a piece of your fylgja, you make it significantly easier to find and summon them again)
0~0~0
Get a set of seidr spells to learn on our own to ward and defend homes and physical spaces
The Seeress' raven hops up onto a rowing-chest as she begins the day's lesson. "Today, and for the following week, we shall shore up your education on privacy wards, lock seals, and signposts."

"Firstly, privacy wards," a flicker of humor passes over her gaze. "Not only are they very useful for when you wish to practice your 'marital styles', but also to avoid gazes, muffle sounds, create sight-stopping shrouds, and other privacy-related things."

"Secondly, lock seals," a talon taps the copper lock securing the chest the she perches upon. "When constructing a lock seal, one must remember that a lock seal must be unlockable. That is the first rule of lock seals. The second is that, now matter the mechanisms and strength of the lock, it can always be bypassed through brute force. A lock seal will not stop a determined enemy, but it can and will give you time to prepare, assess, and react accordingly. Depending on what manner of things you've added to the lock seal, the spell itself may do the work for you," she finishes with a bit of a humorous lilt to her voice.

"Thirdly, signposts." With a single flap of her wings, the Seeress laces the air with a minor spell. As she does, a foreboding sense of malaise flickers across your mind as you swallow a gulp. "Generally, it is considered poor form to lay traps without giving a courtesy warning, which is where signposts come in. Signposts are simple spells that, when cast, allows one to convey concepts to those who happen into its range. One can convey complex subjects through the layering and clever application of signposts."

Over the following days, the Seeress has you practice the spells and techniques until she's satisfied with your proficiency.

(You can now create privacy wards)
(You can now create lock seals)
(You can now create signposts)

0~0~0
Talking to Heima Smiles (Silver-Tongue: 6x5, 5x5, 4x4)24+1(Friendly)+1(Tenderizing Roast)=26 Successes
Heima Smiles, well, 'smiled' as you tried again and again to hook him into a conversation.

"So, how about that weather we're having?" Look, alright, you're running out of topics. Sure, it's not gonna wo-

"It's alright." Heima's expression doesn't change an inch as a voice like spun gold flows from between his ever-closed teeth.

You stare at him, eyes twitching.

He stares back, a bare skewer in his hand—that had been covered in meat just a few seconds ago!

A spark of levity plays across his eyes as he takes a bite of the now filled skewer?!

'This guy is fucking freaky.'

You couldn't agree more.

0~0~0
Talking to Eric (Silver-Tongue: 6x5, 4x1, 3x2, 2x3, 1x3)7+1(Friendly)=8 Successes
"And that is how you properly reef a sail when sailing underwater," Eric's proud declaration snaps you from the glazed-eye, open-mouthed state that the endless outpour of sailing knowledge and terminology left you in.

You swallow as you realize that he's expecting a response. "Oh, uh, what about the Abysslings? I know you said that they can be a problem, but how do you deal with them?"

...What? Just because you don't particularly feel one way or another about sailing doesn't mean that you weren't listening. He's your brother, for crying out loud!

Though, you don't miss the fact that this is just his attempt to distract from the topic of Kyrsviking politics.

0~0~0
Talking to Vagn Wheel-Drifter
One morning, as you get ready to load back onto the Wavedancer, you find yourself talking to Vagn as he uses his wheel hugareida to speed up the process.

"So, Vagn, how'd you get your kenning?" You eye the wheel he rides upon, the reason obvious but the context blank.

He grins, a snorting laugh slipping free, "Well, it's a funny story actually. You see..."

...It wasn't a funny story. Vagn, despite being a rather personable individual, can't tell a story to save his life.

Which is actually how he got the kenning of 'Wheel-Drifter', as he had to ride a wagon-wheel to escape from a bunch of trolls who demanded stories from him.

Actually, now that you think about it, that is kind of a funny story.

(You have 5 Relations with Vagn Wheel-Drifter)
0~0~0
Talking to Stigr (Silver-Tongue: 4x1, 3x4, 2x4, 1x5) 4 Failures
"The Heavy-Arrow, of course," Stigr explains as he puts another hole through a tree about three or so yards away, "is bad at distance, plus even Aki could outrun it. What it does do, though, is damage, even through shields if you're close enough."

"You shouldn't say things like that, about Aki."

Something in your voice makes Stigr pause and close his mouth. "A-anyways, I, uh, I was wanting to talk to you about... Well," he swallows as his eyes flick down, "a-actually nevermind."

You watch as he staggers off, brows furrowing in confusion. Is he suffering from nidheart again...?

'Perhaps you should look down,' Blackhand says with some amusement as you follow his directions.

In a three-foot-wide ring centered around your feet, the grass itself pulls itself out by the roots in an attempt to escape your looming wrath. The closest stalks of slowpoke grass now little more than scorch marks on the ground.

"Oh."

0~0~0
Talking to Jordan, Tryggr, Trausti, Stigmar, and also Gabriel
You watch with narrowed eyes as Tryggr waves goodbye to a giggling farmer's daughter—an English farmer's daughter. He's not alone in this, either, as Stigmar has to pull Stigr away from another village girl—whose older sister was making eyes at a red-faced Stigmar the entire time.

Jordan, thankfully, stayed aboard the ship while Gabriel handled asking for directions from the locals. It would've been rather awkward if he'd gone ashore given the murderous looks previously oblivious brothers and fathers shoot towards your men. Fortunately, they're only Christians so it's not like they're much of a threat or anything, but that's besides the point.

England is not all that much like Lotharingia. Honestly, it feels as though you never left home. The average person looks more or less the same as they do back in Asvir, just with a lack of weirdos to add contrast to the picture.

In Lotharingia, the land was dead.

Here?

Well, here it's just dying. Clinging to life by the finger-stumps—but alive nonetheless. For how much longer, though, will it last?

Just stepping foot here tells you all you need to know. One day, this land will go the way of Lotharingia. The wind will stop whistling in your ears, the trees will stop laughing through their boughs, the ground will stop pushing back against every step you take.

In a way, it's really sad.

Gabriel, on the other hand, looks more alive then he ever did in Agder. He smiles as he shakes the local 'Thane's' hand—who appears to have a shockingly large amount of power, given the standards of the Christians—and pauses as he catches your gaze.

Saying goodbye to the Thane, Gabriel saunters on over to you with a mile-wide smile on his face. "Ah, can't you just taste the faith in the air? It's good to be out of that faithless, barren land."

"It's not much like Agder, no," you respond with a diplomatic, level tone. The closer you came to England, the more stand-offish Gabriel became.

It occurs to you as he wanders off towards the ship that this may be the last time you get a chance to talk to Gabriel before you make for Winchester—it's only a few hours away by ship, apparently. This may very well be the best chance for him to tell you whatever it is he needs to.

The only question is, do you push him on it?
[ ] You do, yes
[ ] You do not, no

0~0~0

AN: I got kind of lazy towards the end there, my apologies

No moratorium, as it is getting a bit late

 

[I.F. Ister]

[X] You do, yes
The city of Winchester, citadel of the English, sits on the peninsula to the left of the River Itchen's winding mouth. It stands on flat ground, perfect for building and farming, though slow sloping hills covered in grazing sheep and cattle can be seen in the distance.

Winchester, just from a cursory glance, would be a pain to assault. Through hard work, intelligent planning, and a lot of sweat, the men of Winchester have shaped the coastline surrounding the city into impressive earthworks and walls.

There are only two ways to enter the city if approaching by sea. The first, a small fishers' jetty, sits at the tip of the peninsula and adds a stark weakness to the otherwise impregnable shoreline. It's clear that the men of Winchester are well-aware of this weakness as the the eagle-eyed spearmen of the city's guard keep a careful watch on the earthwork-bordered slope—the only way up from the small beach.

The second is through the gap in the long, curving seawall that closes the shallow harbor off from the greater waters of the world. The gap is near to the fortified shore and also under the watchful eyes of the seawall's tower-endcap, which makes it entering via the harbor a liar's tale.

As you draw closer, you begin to pick out dozens upon dozens of buildings both big and small. Houses and homes, stalls and stables, and the tell-tale steeple of church and city square. Hundreds—no, thousands—of people go about their day-to-day life as they stockpile food and wood for winter. There's not much in the way of nearby forests, so every bit of firewood is a precious and valuable treasure.

The church bells start to toll and the people stiffen and tense—they've spotted your approach. The ringing is not as frantic as if they were certain of hostile intentions, your lack of dragon-prow helping there, but the fact of the matter is that Norsemen are dangerous.

As you beach the Wavedancer at the fishers' beach, you're met by a wall of spears in the hands of grim-faced men waiting to take position at the top of the slope. They number in the hundreds and they stand with archers and javelin-men on the flanking earthwork. But it is not their numbers or choice of location that captures your attention, no.

What has your curiosity piqued is the presence of almost-recognizable power among them—multiple kinds, at that. Light bounces off the well-polished armor of a trio of Knights sitting astride their armor-clad horses. A lightning-wreathed eagle and two iron-talon falcons circle high in the sky—reminding you again of how Knights fight.

But they are not the only source of power at the top of the slope. Of the four-hundred men standing at the ready, forty are clad in mail and helms. All forty of those men possesses strength enough to rival a Norseman—the feeling of their cultivation similar to that of the Thane who gave you directions, which tells you the sort of enemy you could be facing here.

The Knights and Thanes seem to be somewhat at odds, given the way some Thanes choose to stand far away from the Knights while piercing them with sullen glares.

As you step foot onto the sandy shore, a man in mail and helm trots forward on horseback. He's dressed in finery and with a well-groomed and oiled mustache—making it obvious of his status as a Jarl, or, well, whatever they call Jarls here.

To your surprise, the Jarl-like man greets you in perfectly spoken Norse, "What brings Danes to Hamwic shores?"

While you internally scoff at being called a 'Dane', that's not what has you narrow your eyes. "Is Hamwic another word for Winchester or did we take a wrong turn somewhere?"

"You are in Hamwic, not Winchester," your honest confusion breaks the tension as the man's lips curl up at the corners. "I'm sure you understand my concerns so, before I can tell you anything, I need to know your intentions."

"Trade, for the most part, and to return that one," you jerk a thumb towards Gabriel, who stands near the prow with the rest of your men, "to his people. He's a Squire, you see."

As you mention the fact that he's a Squire, a ripple of murmurs rises from the ranks of Englishmen. Before the Jarl-like man can respond, one of the Knights speaks up, "Gabriel? Is that that you I spy?"

The flicker of confusion in Gabriel's eyes lasts only a moment before recognition kicks in. "Colby?!"

The Knight removes his helmet to reveal a grinning face not-too dissimilar to Gabriel's—brothers, perhaps, or some other family relation? He dismounts off his horse as Gabriel leaps ashore, the kinsmen meeting in the middle with equally astonished faces.

Colby looks Gabriel up and down as he grabs him by the shoulders, open-mouth shock playing across his face. He pauses as he feels the muscle and snorts, the surprise turning into a genuine, full-mouth smile, "God be good, it really is you!"

The Jarl-like man watches the reunion with a raised eyebrow, amusement sparkling in his eyes. He too dismounts and makes his way down the beach, stopping a few feet away from you. Extending a hand, he offers you his name. "My name is Harlow Graye, Eorl of Hampshire, and I welcome you to Hamwic."

"Halla Skyfire, leader of this expedition, and I'm honored to be here," you take the proffered arm and shake it firmly. As you do that, though, the Eorl's eyes travel across your form and lingers on your breasts and hips as confusion sparks in his squinting, brows-furrowing eyes.

"Wait, are you a woman?"

You glance down at your chest, "Unless something changed since last I checked, yeah."

"Huh."

0~0~0

After a small party—where you swiftly learn that your English is more then a little rusty—you find yourself outside and surrounded by the evening tunes of creatures called 'crickets'. You're not alone in watching the sun set, either.

Gabriel leans against a fence as muffled laughter leaks from the hall. He's silent as you join him and stays that way for a long while.

Eventually, you tire of this game and break the silence over your knee, "So, you never told me about this 'Cousin Colby' of yours."

He swirls a spoon around a cup of some manner of herbal mixture the locals are fond of—it's not to your taste, unfortunately. He swallows some of it and frowns, the bitter taste coating the entirety of his mouth, "Colby and I... We didn't really get along." Gabriel pauses, then corrects himself, "Well, I didn't get along with him. He was only two years my senior, yet outclassed me in just about every category imaginable—even the ones I thought myself talented in."

"That'll breed resentment," you reply as you too lean on the fence.

"Yeah, it did." Gabriel sighs, cringing at memories of the past. "In my absence, he's been named heir of Blackstone Keep."

"Does that make you angry?"

"No, no," he shakes his head. "If I asked, Colby would step aside in a heartbeat."

"Are you going to?"

Gabriel opens his mouth, but pauses. "I... He's a better candidate then I ever was. He's brave, honorable, strong, handsome, and loyal."

"All traits you share with him," you say a with a snort as Gabriel looks away, his face turning red.

"I... I have something I need to tell you, something I can't hold in anymore," he says as he eventually turns back towards you.

"Whatever you've got to say, I'll listen."

'He's gonna confess, I bet.' That's what you're reckoning, too. You're not exactly a moron, after all, and you do have a perfectly good set of eyes—for the most part anyways.

Gabriel takes a deep breath and looks you square in the eyes, "Halla Skyfire, I am going to kill your father."

'Well, shit.'

How would you like to respond?
[ ] Write in

0~0~0

AN: It's been a little while since I got to stretch my writing legs properly ;P

15-minute moratorium.

 

[I.F. Ister]

Spoiler: From the Heart

[X] **Plan From the Heart**
-[X] "Gabriel, I love you like a brother. I'm sorry I have never been able to give you what you wanted. If I had not already given my heart to Abjorn, then gladly might I have given it to you."
-[X] "But I also love my father as a daughter. The thought of you one of you killing the other fills me with enough dread to break my heart in two."
-[X] "If your heart is set on this, then allow me one favour. When you think you're ready, ask me for a rematch. You won't be ready to face my father until you can beat me first."

0~0~0

Gabriel's words hang between you like an outlaw off a tree. He's not done, either, and the words yet to be said have your hairs standing on end. He's thought long and hard on this, that much, at least, is clear. Trying to convincing him away from this path will do little good.

Still, you can't just let Gabriel kill Steinarr—no matter how improbable that is. Stepping aside when a man has announced his intent to kill your kin? When your family is in danger, you back them up. It does not matter the circumstances, kin is kin, family is family—and Gabriel, no matter how idle thoughts may ponder, is neither.

"Gabriel," you swallow as the bulwark falls and unkindled honesty rises in your throat. Vague thoughts and uncertain feelings solidify into an onslaught of truth, an outpouring you couldn't hope to stop or even slow if you had nine hundred years, "I love you like a brother and, a-and I'm sorry that I've never been able to realize your hopes. If," you hesitate, the words surprising even you, "If my heart wasn't Abjorn's, then maybe... Maybe it would've been yours."

A sudden burst of wind sends your and his hair to fluttering. Gabriel stands silent, face unmoving as the breeze runs fingers through his hair. Eventually, that mask cracks and his voice, hoarse and raw, filters through a dry mouth, "I wish you hadn't told me that." His jaw clenches as his eyes screw shut and moisten at the corners, "I wish you were screaming, that you hated me. I wish you were trying to kill me, anything other then that."

You can only shrug as your eyes sting, "What can I say? I'm loyal to my friends."

Gabriel swallows, "You...," he takes a deep breath. "You know that won't, can't, dissuade me, right?"

"A girl can dream." You try a smile. It doesn't reach your eyes. "The thought of you and Steinarr killing each other..." Your throat stings with the bile that thought conjures.

"I had a dream too, until it died before my very eyes." You... As much as you may wish it, you don't have a response to that. "Halla, answer me honestly. If someone were to kill Abjorn and Stigandr and you felt their deaths as if they were your own, if that same person then went on to kill Steinarr and take you across the sea as a theow, would you let it go? Or would you seek vengeance?"

It's not something you have to think about. The answer comes as easily as Flekkr does to an out-stretched hand. "Even if he paid a fair man-price, I'd still hunt him down like a maddened dog."

Gabriel nods, unsurprised, "Then you understand why I have to do this."

You have to whisper it, but you tell the truth all the same, "I wish I didn't, but I do."

"Then..." He trails off and takes a deep breath before continuing, "what will you do? Are we to be enemies or are we...?" He doesn't dare finish the thought.

"I can't stand aside, but at the same time...," you can't help but laugh as a thought comes to mind, a simply solution to a complex problem, "If you can't beat me, then how are you going to beat Steinarr?"

"Through God, all things are possible," Gabriel replies as he nods. "But I've never known you to lie. When the time comes, our blades shall clash first." He extends his hand, palm facing upwards. "I'll see you on the battlefield, Halla Skyfire."

Your hand meets his hand the chains of fate tighten around you, "I'll see you on the battlefield, Gabriel Blackstone."

As the moon starts to rise in the night sky, you and Gabriel separate—leaving you alone with your thoughts.

And Blackhand.

'You should have killed him, you know.'

"Maybe," you watch as the moonlight dances across the waves. "It's what you would've done, after all."

'You still have a chance.'

As the waves lap at the shore and slowly erode away the once-firm land, you can't help but chuckle. "You and I, Hallr Blackhand, may have the same soul, but we are very different people."

A lump of soil falls into the waves.

Pick one:
[ ] Muna: Different After All
-The distinction between you and Blackhand grows stronger
[ ] Muna: A Dream That Could Have Been
-Future children shall have access to Gabriel's trait list

0~0~0

AN: That was fun.

Next update shall be Winchester and trading

No moratorium, short vote, though I will extend it if you would prefer.

 

[I.F. Ister]

Spoiler: Solidified Truth

[X] Muna: Different After All

0~0~0

With the symbol of Harlow Graye fluttering from the mast of the Wavedancer, the Thanes of Winchester—their strength easily eclipsing your own—guarding the gates begrudgingly allow you through the gates.

Winchester, a city of cities. According to all you've spoken to, more then ten-thousand people live here and they have not spoken lies. Everywhere you look is a dozen new faces, faces that vanish as you look to the next.

Hundreds of buildings—of stone, wood, and iron—cling to the orderly, planned-out streets of Winchester. Walls of stone, towering over even the Wavedancer's considerable mast, encircle the city in a protective shroud. No man, myth, or monster will avoid these walls.

Wealth flows like water during thaw-season. Silver—coins at that!— changes hands with a casualness that nearly knocks you off your feet. Even assuming that the food you see from the gate is a large portion of the total stockpile, there's enough food here to feed the Valley ten times over!

As you and your men gape at the sheer abundance around you, one of the gate-Thanes chuckles to himself, "You chose a good time to come here, Norwegian."

"How so?" You turn to the man—an old, eyepatch-clad, grizzled graybeard with a nose that had been broken one too many times.

"The King's decided to hold court, and you've arrived just in time to make use of that."

You squint. "Strange that you're telling me this, mister...?"

He winks and taps his spear on the ground, "You can call me Aesc."

Your eyes narrow even further. "Alright, 'Aesc', I may do just that."

He snorts and steps into the gatehouse, vanishing from both sight and senses.

Regardless, it's time to figure out what to do about trading.
[ ] Well... If the King is holding court, why not go ask him directly?
[ ] Let's just see if we can't find a regular merchant, eh? Dealing with the King of Wessex may be a bit above your, er, 'Paygrade' as it were.

0~0~0

AN: I've got a thing going on tomorrow, so there's a chance that there won't be an update. My apologies in that case.

No moratorium.

 

[I.F. Ister]

Spoiler: Chosen Option

[X] Well... If the King is holding court, why not go ask him directly?

0~0~0

In the court of the Lone-Standing King, there are two rules: "Be competent" and "Put the good of the realm before yourself." If it fits both those criteria, then it is lawful in the eyes of God, Man, and King.

King Alfred, the King of all Free England, rubbed at his eyes as he watched yet another would-be assassin get dragged away kicking and screaming by the Royal Thanes drowning his court in iron. It wasn't so much the constant attempts to end his life that irked him—his children would carry on his work, after all—but the downright pathetic methods the Nobiliary's men used.

A man sent with sword dangling on the waist, who dramatically draws it with a flourish and a theatrical declaration of intent? Seriously? He's running a kingdom here, not a damned carnival! Show some respect to the title!

Iohannes shook his head and his long gray beard swayed with the motion. Perhaps befitting the man's self-described status as a 'fighting monk', he wore mail interwoven with his secular-attire and iron forearm and shin-guards on his limbs. A sheathed sword hang from one side of his belt while a hammer mirrored it on the other.

"You really should do something about those Franks, my King, they've been nothing but trouble since they arrived," Iohannes scowled as Grimbald bristled in the corner. Rounding on the black-robed Benedictine, the graybeard waved his arms at his fellow monk-turned-advisor, "What? Have something to say?"

"Of course I have something to say," Grimbald rolled his eyes, adding as much dramatic flair as the hook-nosed man could muster, "it's only the same conversation we have every damned time this happens, after all. Our King hasn't the troops to spare and the Knights the Nobles bring are more then enough to make up for the trouble that tags along."

"Knights!" Iohannes growled as he ground his teeth together, "Frankish fops the lot of them!"

"Frankish fops who can decimate armies," Grimbald, of course, had a good point.

"Armies of the lower classes, of mortals! Fat lot of good that does against the damned Norse." And Iohannes, of course, also had a good point.

"For every Knight that our King has, that's a dozen more Thanes he can put elsewhere. A dozen more Thanes that can keep the peace in their own lands and help improve the realm as a whole," Grimbald retorts with a jutting chin.

Iohannes shakes his head and sighs, conceding the point, "I will admit, they do good work when you can point them towards the enemy, but they have the loyalty of a wet dog in a freshly cleaned room."

Grimbald mirrors the sigh as he lets his shiny, tonsured head hang low. "All men want to be ruled by their own and we Franks are no different. I just wish the morons didn't jump at the faintest chance to have it be so."

And there's the crux of it. The Knights and their Noble masters are an ally of unquantifiable value in an existential fight—there's peace now, but that never lasts with Norsemen. Even in peacetimes, their raids continue unceasingly as they deprive and desolate and drive men to weakness. Hundreds of thousands of pounds of silver and gold only bought a scant few decades—barely enough time to train replacements for the heavy losses taken in the face of undying hordes.

The few English Knights that have sprung up, eager to prove their worth, keep throwing themselves bodily into overwhelming odds. Sure, the ones that survive are all the stronger for it, but for every one that stands, four fall. A decade-and-a-half spent training—a decade-and-a-half bought with the wealth of those they swore to protect—wasted in pursuit of the foolish idea that they had 'something to prove'.

Alfred sighed as another wrinkled formed on his brow—with every day that passed, the end of silver-bought time drew closer and his stress rose to ever-greater heights. Honestly, the simple fact that he hadn't had a heart attack was all the more evidence towards the righteousness of this path he walks.

Soon, Guthrum would come. Soon, he would see if he had redeemed his people in the eyes of God.

Regardless of the ever-shifting future, he had a court to attend to in the now.

The doorman nervously shuffled in as he coughed into his fist. The next court-attendees would be coming in soon and, by the looks of the heavy globs of nervous sweat that dripped off the end of the man's nose, they'd be a pleasant break to the monotony of cow-ownership disputes and incompetent, short-sighted Noble assassins.

"Your Highness and his Graces," the doorman bowed before the court before clearing his throat one last, stalling time, "T-the next courtiers are, well," he gulps, "Well, um, they're, well-"

"Get on with it, boy," Iohannes growled, iron clanking against iron as he crossed his arms, "They're can be that bad! It's not like they're Vikings!"

The doorman paled, "Well, that's the thing, your graces, they... kind of are?"

In the deafening silence that followed, not even the constant scritch-scratch of Asser's ever-scribbling quill could be heard.

"Grimbald," Iohannes announced with a straight face, "Next time I speak such foolish words, cut out my tongue."

"Gladly," Grimbald replied, no hesitation in his voice.

Chuckling at his advisor's antics—while making a mental note to confirm his surgeons' abilities to re-attach tongues—King Alfred turned his attention to the doors as they opened and hands fell to weapons.

0~0~0

All eyes are on you as you enter the hall, though all hands are on weapons.

"Uh," you swallow as you are, quite literally, the flat-out weakest person in a hall with over a hundred-and-twenty well-armed and armored men, "Did I do something wrong?"

"You, Norwegian," before anyone can respond, the crown-bearing man on a naval-themed throne raises his voice, "have done no wrong—in this court." A fair enough emendation, all things considered. "But how can this court help right the wrongs that have befallen you?"

You blink, instantly forgetting every bit of prep-work Gabriel had you learn regarding Kingly decorum. "Alfred, right?" The guards bristle, but stop as the king nods. "Well, I was wondering if you wanted to trade? I've got some-"

Before you can finish talking, you find yourself standing in an utterly quiet room. The locale hadn't changed, it's just that not a single person out of the hundred-and-twenty-four men standing, sitting, or otherwise working was making a sound.

Except for the King, who merely clapped calloused hands together and laughed. The claps echoed eerily through the otherwise noise-barren hall, the laughter only adding to the odd feeling brewing in your gut. "If there's one thing I appreciate about you Norse, it's your audacity. Never fearing the outcome as, after all, you'll either live and win, or lose and die. Do I have it right?"

"More or less, yeah," you nod and all the guards bristle yet again, yet unable to act against their king. "But, the trading?"

The King snorts and flicks fingers your way, "Go ahead."

[ ] What would you like to offer and for what in exchange?
-[ ] (Optional) The King looks like he's considering something as he looks at you, perhaps asking after it will bolster your trade stance?

As you think, you find yourself considering the King.

Specifically, his cultivation power. Or rather, powers—plural. One of them is Anglo-Saxon. The other?

Christian.

Very interesting, Mister King Alfred. Very interesting indeed.

0~0~0

AN: Ay, I managed it.

No moratorium

 

[I.F. Ister]

Spoiler: Lay the Cards Out

[X] Plan: Lay the Cards Out
-[X] Well, I've got a fairly decent supply right about now, we recently had a pretty large pack of wolves that ran out and ate all the game and whatnot--and I mean an awful lot of them. We managed to sort them out, but we've got well over a hundred pelts right now after everyone who had use for them took their share. Goodly sized, fairly potent, and waterproof due to them _being_ water wolves of all bloody things. On our way down, we took a side trip and managed to sort out a modest problem with one of our neighbors, and picked up a hold full of quality whetstones as well, which are always in demand from my experience. The biggest thing on the table of course comes back to the aforementioned wolf pack--it was led by a monster of particular potency but not very much experience, and I had the good fortune of being among the group that laid it low, gaining access to its pelt. While the monster _itself_ was young and stupid, it _was_ Fenriskin with a hide impervious to ordinary attacks, a skilled artisan could turn it into something _really_ special. I myself, would be an Artisan on that level--though if you wanted Plate, I'd need to cooperate with someone who knows how to work with Fervor rather than Orthstirr, and you'd have to wait for me to get started until at _least_ Summer of next year, it'd be a hefty project and I've only got about another moon to spend here at the most if we want to be off the seas by winter.
-[X] As for what we need... Well, the aforementioned giant pack of wolves sort of wreaked havoc on the game, and while nature's healing, I figured it would be the neighborly thing to do to see about locking in a supply of extra food to give us that extra cushion to make sure nobody goes hungry this year. I'll admit a _personal_ interest in acquiring any interesting metals you might have access to here that I might not be able to acquire at home, as well as any interesting herbs, trees, or other bits of vegetation that I might be able to find a use for.
-[X] (Optional) The King looks like he's considering something as he looks at you, perhaps asking after it will bolster your trade stance?
--[X] I _do_ also have a ship-full of Norsemen, and while trading was the goal, nobody's going to say no to a chance at getting some action, if you've got any local pests that need to get a good thrashing.

0~0~0

"So, Alfred-"

"You will address the King as 'Your Highness'," the graybeard at King Alfred's side growls out as his iron-encased arms fall to the weapons on his belt—which is a rather interesting idea, to armor ones' arms in iron, "Or, alternatively, King Alfred. He is your better and you will show him the respect he deserves."

'That graybeard is a Saxon, I'd know their obsession with class anywhere. Not even Charlemagne at the height of his power was able to rid them of that.'

Something inside you rankles at that, the idea that one is owed respect simply by virtue of their birth stings the independent streak that resides in the heart of all true Norsemen. A Jarl deserves respect, yes, but that respect is only granted once they've proven their worth. Once they bring respect to their people, their people give respect to them.

Still, from the stories you've heard and just by looking at him, King Alfred has brought respect to his people, so respect he has earned from them and from you.

In that case, "I'm sorry about that, King Alfred."

"You are forgiven," Alfred doesn't really seem to care, but politeness has no price. In this case, impoliteness may very well have cost you your head—if the way some of those Thanes were eyeing it has any weight.

Something draws Alfred's attention to the side, towards a simply-dressed man sitting cross-legged on the stone floor. He hunches over a book sitting open in his lap as he makes marks with the feather in hand. A jar of some sort of coloring liquid sits on the floor at his side, which he dips the feather inside of every once in a while.

As if listening to something you can't hear, Alfred nods and returns his attention to you. "I'm told you've brought a ship's load of high-quality whetstones and, furthermore, have a number of water-aspected furs in your hold." He leans in, his fingers folding together as his eyes sparkle, "Is this true?"

"Yeah, it is," you blink before adding a belated, "your Highness." Obviously, the cross-legged man has some sort of information gathering ability. The only question is 'how does it work?' "My people fought a large horde of monsters, water-wolves, and I ended up with the pelts."

You were about to launch into how you came into possession of the pelts when Alfred cuts you off.

"A fine story I'm sure, but perhaps not one we have time for today," King Alfred nods towards a large candle cut with a series of evenly-spaced notches—the flickering wick slowly nearing the next in line. "I have an interest in obtaining the whetstones and, to a lesser extent, the pelts. In accordance, I offer you two-hundred and sixty pounds for the whetstones and eight pounds for the pelts."

Do you accept that price as is, do you wish to haggle, or would you prefer it in some other way?
[ ] Accept the deal as is
-[ ] (Optional) Haggle on the Whetstones (Opposed Silver-Tongue Check)
-[ ] (Optional) Haggle on the Whetstones (Opposed Silver-Tongue Check)
-[ ] (Optional) Offer your services as a craftswoman to perhaps sweeten the deal
[ ] You'd prefer the deal in some other product or service (Write in)

0~0~0

As you exit the court, you find your path blocked by the graybeard—who you eventually learn is named Iohannes.

"King Alfred has an offer for you—two offers—but one is personal and the other... can't be spoken of in court," Iohannes jerks his head to the side and you follow him into a secluded side-room. In the privacy of the room, Iohannes lays out the offers "King Alfred is willing to add an extra pound to the deal in exchange for allowing him to tour your ship. But, more importantly, he knows you Norsemen are always in search of ways to earn orthstirr."

You narrow your eyes, "I'm listening."

"Some unruly Thanes have balked at paying the Danegeld and have turned to the Nobiliary in hopes of them doing something about it. The King hasn't the forces to spare in this matter and is willing to add an extra twenty pounds to the deal—as well as extending an invitation of mercenary work to your people—if you repossess their lands. If you accept, you'll be given a list of names and locations, as well as the relevant details."

"And if I decline?" Something about this seems... fishy. Alfred doesn't have a lack of men, his throne room is evidence enough of that, so what's the angle here?

"Then nothing," Iohannes doesn't look overly happy about that fact. "The deal continues and you go back to Agder with heavy pockets."

What is your decision?
[ ] Accept both offers
[ ] Accept only the mercenary offer
[ ] Accept only the ship-touring offer
[ ] Decline both

0~0~0

AN: Fucking hell, why must schools be so ungodly screwed up in terms of telling you how to do the most basic of tasks: registering for classes?

Anyways, fucking school devoured most of my day and energy and, as a result, this update's kinda garbage. I'm very sorry about that.

No moratorium.

 

[I.F. Ister]

Spoiler: Chosen Options

[X] You'd prefer the deal in some other product or service (Write in)
-[X] You came here for food, and the King can probably get a better deal from his subjects than you can. Ask for 3/4 the value of the whetstone trade in coin, and the rest in food.
-[X] (Optional) Haggle on the Wolf Pelts (Opposed Silver-Tongue Check)
--[X] We will flatly not accept anything less than 20 pounds no matter what. We'd rather just not make the deal on them.

[X] Accept both offers

0~0~0
(Halla's Silver-Tongue: 60 vs Alfred's Diplomacy: 106, Alfred Wins, Big Surprise)
"Twenty pounds!?" Iohannes' eyes twitch as his jaw drops. "Are you out of your mind?!"

The shocked shout echoes through the hall as Thanes scoff and arch brows. The tiniest hints of lifted brows flash across the King's face as even he is taken aback by such a massive price increase.

King Alfred taps a calloused finger against his armrest as he leans back, "As Iohannes says, twenty pounds for wolf pelts is a significant jump in price. I understand that these are of a more magical variety, but are they really worth that? Tell me of their capabilities."

He gestures for you to do just that, so you do. Reaching into your memory, you search around for the accounts given by your fellow warriors, "The water-wolves we fought could spray water from their mouths, coat their fangs with 'sharp water', and were able to create 'water clones' of themselves. They could also swim through and breathe water like fish."

As you list off the water-wolves' strengths, the King's expression doesn't change. As you finish, a slight frown creases the corners of his mouth. "I understand that these are no normal wolves, but I can't see them being worth more then eleven, twelve pounds."

You grimace. "I'm afraid that I can't sell them for that low a price."

"I see," Alfred nods and moves on to the next topic of conversation. "Regarding the next item of consideration, I see no reason to deny your request of food and three-fourths coin. Asser," the man on the floor—Asser, presumably—looks up as Alfred nods towards him, "send word to the Storemasters that I am releasing sixty-seven silver-pounds worth of food for our Norwegian guests to take aboard their fine vessel."

(+2,673oz Silver, divided equally among the crew)
(+850 Units of Food)
0~0~0

As the crew of the Wavedancer are hard at work off-loading whetstones and on-loading silver and food, you find yourself more or less alone with King Alfred. That is, there are a whole swathe of Thanes surrounding the ship from nearly ever angle—but that's probably as close as you're gonna get to being alone with the King.

Alfred has a warm, boyish grin on his aged face as he runs fingers across the Wavedancer's surface. "You're a beautiful ship," the King murmurs to himself, lost in thought as the spirit of said ship preens under the attention. Eventually, he turns to you, "She's a snekkja, yes?"

"That's correct, your Highness." You nod as he laughs.

"Please, call me Alfred. In this moment, I am a guest aboard your ship—not a King. However, a snekkja is a warship," he casts his gaze across the deck of the Wavedancer, "so where is her dragon-prow?"

Before you can answer, his eyes fall upon the cloth-wrapped and string-tied bundle lying near to the prow. With great strides, he expertly navigates through the throngs of working men and stops before the bundle. Reaching down, he pauses as his fingers graze the knots. "Ah, I forget myself," he apologizes as he looks to you, "May I?"

You laugh, something about him reminding you of Asgeirr when he's trying to get at the dulce. "Go ahead, Alfred."

Alfred's face lights up and a lonely pang shoots through your heart. With fingers trembling like a child opening a Yuletide gift, he swiftly undoes the knots and peels away the cloth. A gasp catches in his throat as painted, polished wood comes into view, "Beautiful..."

"Eric, my brother, took some time while sailing to paint it up," you explain as Alfred stands in awe.

"Truly, it is a tragedy that the Wavedancer is bereft of her fangs," Alfred sighs as he nods towards you, "You should be proud to command such a fine ship."

"I am," you nod, not really sure how to react to this.

"Unfortunately," Alfred sighs again, harder this time, "I cannot spend all my time examining ships, not even all of today." Reaching to his belt, he retrieves several pieces of folded paper. Handing them to you, he explains what they are as you unfold and look them over, "This is the location, as well as maps of the castle and the surrounding landscape—as well as directions to get there."

Clearing his throat, he begins to list the contents from memory, "Daw's Castle, near to the burh of Watchet, is the location one of the more uppity groups of Thanes has chosen to make their base of operations. It has been restored and now plays host to twenty-five Thanes, two Knights, one Squire, one Priest, and a Noble by the name of Tobias Belanger. A number of mortal footmen have accompanied their masters to this spot, but they are not combatants so you should not fear them overmuch. You are to make an example of the Noble and the Thanes while sparing the Knights and others if you can."

Thanking the King for his time, you turn your attention towards the matter at hand and the pieces of information kept within.

While you're not coming up with combat plans just yet, you're still going to need to figure out an approach for this mission.
[ ] Over the Land, you'll put to shore a ways away from Daw's Castle and approach over land
[ ] Up the River, you'll sail up the river straight to the castle's walls
[ ] Scale the Cliff, you'll scale the sea-side cliff
[ ] Write in

[ ] (Optional) You're not sure that you can handle this with the men you have, perhaps you should see if there are any men of the Danelaw in the area?

Spoiler: Daw's Castle

-Built in a double-layered semi-circle with their backs to a sheer cliff dropping into the sea.
-The cliffs are roughly 80 meters/260 feet from sea-level
-The Washford River flows beside it, the mouth of which comes out at Watchet
-Bivallate Defenses, Mortared Earthwork

Spoiler: Map

Spoiler: Lord Tobias Belanger, Noble

Tobias Belanger, a young Noble of the 4th Decade, he came to Wessex in search of a new home as his family had suffered repeated failures in Francia.

Known Abilities and/or Traits
-A penchant for fine wine
-Greedy and is prone to over-reaching
-Clever and tends to know his limits, though doesn't always abide by them

Spoiler: Sir Louis Dubois, Knight

Louis Dubois, a Knight of the 5th Decade, is fond of commanding plants in battle. He spurns the need of a horse and hawk and prefers fighting on foot. He wields a large hammer, but has sword and dagger to fall back on.

Known Abilities and/or Traits
-Plant-based powers
-Able to deal heavy blows
-Takes less damage from fire-based attacks then one might expect

Spoiler: Sir Serge Gagnon, Knight

Serge Gagnon, a Knight of the 8th Decade, is an old, grizzled wardog of a man. He knows his way around the battlefield and will likely be the biggest threat to you. His horse has lightning-aspects and his bird is known for its tricks.

Known Abilities and/or Traits
-Nearly unstoppable in a charge and prefers to keep his enemies at arm's length, though is perfectly capable of snapping spines should the situation call for it
-Is a master of the basics and will relies upon more conventional tactics
-Knows when to call it quits, will surrender if the day is clearly lost and his opponent is willing

Spoiler: Thomas Laurent, Squire

Thomas Laurent, a Squire of the 3rd Decade, is a young man eager to prove himself. He is Squire to Sir Serge Gagnon and is chaffing under his mentor's more withdrawn and stoic nature. He is not noted for any exemplary combat skills, though he has a small talent for light-based power.

Known Abilities and/or Traits
-Light-based powers
-A bit full of himself
-Eager and reckless, wants to show his mentor that he's strong and ready

Spoiler: Father Archibald Lachapelle, Priest

Father Archibald Lachapelle, a Priest of the 6th Decade, is a mystery to the court. He prefers to keep to himself and only seems to be here out of some personal desire rather then any real loyalty. As long as he is not disturbed, the likelihood of him joining any ongoing battle is thin.

Spoiler: Thanes

The Thanes are primarily drawn from the land surrounding Watchet, which means that they have many supporters in the burh. Even if those supporters won't help them against the crown, it's expected that they would lend aid against a band of Vikings. You can expect fifteen more Thanes if called, alongside their mortal fyrdmen.

There are twenty-five Thanes that have thrown their lot in with the Noble, Tobias Belanger.

0~0~0

AN: Well, you've been wanting to fight Thanes and Nobles, haven't you? ;P

25-minute moratorium.