Summer 10/Turn 3
(+108 Odr)
[X]Plan The Quest For Hugr (Part 1)

1

-[X] Organize the deal between Dorri and the Dwarves
--[X] Make it clear to the dwarves that we are not in charge of Dorri, we're just playing intermediary
--[X] Also discuss with Dorri preparations for the Rogaland raid, if he's amenable, make sure to suggest signal fires along the coast as that seems useful for Firestorm as well as its normal purpose

2

-[X] (Crafting) Try to make something
--[X] In preparation for the raid, make 30 Tier 4 sets of weapons and/or armor (whatever we can make, with a preference for armor if possible) for the people of the Hading as part of our deal with Dorri (27 Work dice from this action +63 from Work dice below, all upgraded by Born With A Hammer In Hand), using metal from the above Dwarven Trade Deal. Noting to Dorri that this is the rushed quality level...we'll be making smaller numbers of better items going forward.
--[X] Use Bottled Lighting for a bonus Crafting Action.
-[X](Crafting) Try to make something (1)
--[X] Make and Inscribe a matching pair of braided half-silver and half-gold Arm-Rings (+15 successes from Tools/Workshop)
--[X] One has runes saying "This arm-snake grants the might of the forest's lord to the atgeir's homestead."(= Grant the strength of a mighty tree to the arm [of the wearer]). Hopefully duplicating Dense Muscles when active.
--[X] The other one has runes saying "This limb-fire lends speed like the thoughts of Odin." (= Grant the wearer speed). Hopefully duplicating High-Twitch Muscles when active.
--[X] Use the Stoking on the runes rather than the arm-rings themselves
--[X] Foring the strength one in the form of a dragon wrapped around a tree, and the speed one a dragon wrapped around a spear
-[X] (Crafting) Try to make something (2)
--[X] Reforge Ashen Kiss, Forge a matching Sword to go with it, also made of Molten Iron (+15 successes from Tools/Workshop)
--[X] Adding Crowfeeder's Runes to both of them, while maintaining Ashen Kiss's existing Runes
--[X] Also adding Runes to the sword saying "May my foe's armor part for me like butter for a hot knife." for penetrating armor
--[X] Adding wolf bone ash to the pair of them, hopefully making them hit harder.
--[X] Name the sword "Burning Caress"

3

-[X] (Underhouse) What would you like to use the Underhouse for?
--[X] Set it up as a hideout
--[X] If there's time, search the empty bedroom for the ledger
--[X] If he's willing to come, bring Seeingsnow and ask him if his abilities can reveal anything about what happened there

4

-[X] (Personal)Spend time with...
--[X] Steinarr, Sten, and the whole rest of our family and retainers
--[X] Discuss the forthcoming attack, suggest sending all noncombatants to the Underhouse once we have it prepped and make other plans as needed. If this happens after the raid, do an after-action report and discuss this in a 'next time' kind of way.
--[X] Ask Steinarr if he has any recommendations other than 'just hit harder' for dealing with someone with a lot of damage reduction. Is there a Stoker State Trick that reduces DR per hit or some other solution he's familiar with? And get his advice on mass combat in general, since he clearly has experience and it seems likely to be relevant. Also, briefly tell everyone about some of our Alloying discoveries in a general way (not necessarily too much specific stuff, but that you can alloy just about anything).

5

-[X] (Exploration) Go on a walk through...
--[X] Our Soulscape!
---[X] (Optional) Send your fylgja in your place (Does not cost an action)
-[X] Special Note: On all Crafting add the following if possible unless otherwise specified:
--[X] For metal items have Heat Hold available just in case
--[X] Using Sundersight (+1d3 Successes)
--[X] Stoking Frami, Virthing, and Saemd (for +1 Success each, +3 successes total) to enhance the crafting process

6

-[X] (Seeress) Learn seidr with the Seeress (Only available during Summer)
--[X] Learn the seidr area for combat spells useful when dealing with other humans, whatever ones Solrun knows anyway
--[X] Reprise our question about where she stays in the winter and invitation to stay with us if she would prefer
--[X] Ask about the early warning she got last time, see how that worked and if duplicating it might be possible

7

-[X] (Research)
--[X] Continue reading up on Frisian cultivation – 1 Research
--[X] Try and use needlebinding when cultivating to reinforce the weaving to the best of the ability, and potentially use strings of Orthstirr to do so as well, and see if it improves how much Odr we can gain – 1 Research, adding one Reward die courtesy of [@Skippy](https://forums.sufficientvelocity.com/members/166/) if any rolls or needed or it would otherwise help.
---[X] Take the standard precaution of having people around us watching over us
--[X] Try and Alloy Forgefire and Fylgja – 1 Research
---[X] Use anything productive gained by this in our mass creation of items this turn
--[X] Try and Alloy Contested Movement and Stoker State, see if that allows Stoked Dice to be used in a less all-or-nothing way with Contested Movement – 1 Research
--[X] Try Alloying Devouring Blaze and Heated Shroud, see if the resulting Trick can destroy hostile Guard effects as an aura – 1 Research
--[X] Experiment with Firebomb Strike, see if now that we've Perfected it we can reverse it, using the explosion to propel the blade like Hal did or if we can delay the explosion so it goes off after we've hit and penetrated the enemy (the hope either way is that the precision of Perfected allows this to make Sharpen work with this without needing a new Trick) – 1 Research
--[X] Try to uncover the root Style of _Time Stands Still_, experiment with trying to create a more limited version of the underlying effect, focussing on our breath the whole time and how we can use it more sparingly. Experiment with inverting our Slowing Slog to slow rather than stop the rest of the universe around us, using the experience of Time Stands Still and our newfound comprehension of Slowing Slog as a guide, and powering the technique with our breath as we do with TSS. – 1 Reward Die courtesy of [@Skippy](https://forums.sufficientvelocity.com/members/166/)


-[X] (Training) Hamr (255 successes to rank up)
--[X] Train Flame-Tending Blade 16xp (8xp)
--[X] Train Fang 14xp (7xp)
-[X] (Training) Hugr (207 successes to rank up)
--[X] Train Hugr 92xp (46xp)
--[X] Train Armorcraft 8xp (4xp)
--[X] Train 'Ranged' Weaponcraft Skill-Trick 2xp (1xp)
--[X] Train 'Spear' Weaponcraft Skill-Trick 2xp (1xp)
-[X] (Work Dice Usage)
--[X] Buildings: 6 Quality, 2 Living Space, 1 Storage, 5 Workshop (14 Total)
--[X] Resources: 6 Quality, 0 Food,0 Goods, 0 Silver (6 Total)
--[X] Livestock: 5 Quality, 0 Food, 0 Goods, 0 Silver (5 Total)
--[X] Crafting: Spend 63 Work Dice on this (see action above)
--[X] Conversion: Spend for 4 Research Dice (8 Total)
-[X] (Incidentals)
--[X] Assign **36 Odr** to Hamr, **2 Odr** to Tactics, and **2 Odr** to Strategy.
--[X] Adding Taafl Board Capacity Gains to: Abjorn, Hallbjorn,
--[X] Receiving Metal from Dwarves: 24 oz Forged Iron, 6 oz Drafty Iron
-[X] (Alloy Slots)
--[X] Unassign Stoked Snare, assign Stoked Ignition
-[X] (Capacity Slots)
--[X] Assign Time Stands Still, Semi-Halting Vortex, and Scouring Cleanse
-[X] (Shapeshifting Slots)
--[X] Assign new slot to High-Twitch Reflexes
-[X] (Fylgja Capacity)
--[X] Assign Flap Away to the empty slot if necessary to use that Trick, if it's not necessary assign a shield instead.
-[X] (Fylgja Alloy/Shapeshifting Slots)
--[X] Remove the single Kindle Spinner, replace it with a single Sparkbomb. Up the Folded Sparkbomb to 3Fold and Orthstirr-Enhancedx10.
-[X] (Standing Orders)
--[X] Reassign the slots for replacing the single Kindle-Spinner and Sparkbomb to replace the two Sparkbomb slots with copies of their initial uses.
0~0~0
Flame Tending Blade (Refined-Mastered)
Fang (5-6)
Armorcraft (4-5)
Ranged and Spear Weaponcraft Skill Tricks (Completed)
Frisian Work
Thank you for reading my work. If you'd like further details on Frisian Cultivation, please seek out the book 'Deep Dive: Frisians'.

You scowl and toss the book aside. That sure was a waste of time!

0~0~0
Alloy research
Alloying Forgefire and your fylgja allows your fylgja to use your Forgefire tricks without having to have them 'accessible.' However, you can't use them while it has Forgefire.

Alloying Contested Movement and Stoker State does nothing.

Alloying Devouring Blaze and Heated Shroud does nothing.

0~0~0
Firebomb Strike Experimenting
Perfecting Firebomb Strike allows you to;
-Reverse it
-Delay the explosion
-Extend the explosion
-And more

0~0~0
Experimenting with Time Stands Still
After some experimentation with Time Stands Still, you discover that;
-Using your breath sparingly causes the Time Stands Still effect to 'stutter'. This feels important.
-Doing that with an inverted Slowing Slog makes attacks aimed towards you faster, except for when you hold your breath.
0~0~0
Needlebinding experimentation with cultivation
You gasp awake like a drowning woman given air as sensation returns to your fingers and toes. What happened?! What's going on?! And why can't you remember the last...?

Well, you don't know how long, now that you think about. One moment, you were kneeling down to cultivate with a new technique and, the moment you started and the Gate opened, something was forced throu... Oh, well, yeah. That would probably explain it, actually.

"You're awake," the voice of a very unamused Seeress draws you from your groggy thoughts. She sits down next to the bed you know realize you're in and places a warm cup of some steaming liquid against your lips, "Drink, you'll feel better."

Following her advice, you tilt your head back and immediately feel regret as the rancid liquid pours down your throat. Flailing wildly, you throw yourself to the floor and scramble to your feet, retching all the way. "By the Gods, woman!" You screech as you paw at your tongue, tears welling in your eyes, "What is that?!"

While the Seeress's face is like stone, her tone steadily gains heat with every spoken word, "It's what you deserve for doing something so foolish as to fully open the Gate, let alone with needlebinding!" She sighs and shakes her head, "It is good to see that you're not any worse for wear, though, if it had tasted good then we'd have had problems."

Your eyes narrow as any protests die on your lips, "What... Do you mean?"

Her mouth twists into a deep frown, "You died, Halla, and I wanted to make sure you were still human and not some creature masquerading as you."

"I," you blink, not quite getting it, "I what?"

"The odr, as it always does, overwhelmed your soul." A frown twitches on your face as you hear that, "It was only thanks to your quick-thinking friends as well as the unusual strength of your soulscape that I was able to halt the flow before it washed you beyond reach."

You swallow, your mouth suddenly dry. "I... I see."

She stares at you for a long while, but says nothing. After all, making you promise not to do it again is a losing battle! Right, Blackhand?

...Blackhand?

There's no answer, you suddenly feel very alone.

(Blackhand is missing and, with the sudden loss of a previously integral part of you, you now are able to capture Experiences. However, thanks to Skippy having pre-emptively spent a Reward Dice, you-the-players know that he'll be back, eventually)
(Your first death. You have ? left)
0~0~0
Dwarf Time
About a week after the incident with your cultivation, you find yourself once more atop a dwarven underhouse. Only this time, you're not here to cultivate but to trade. And it's not the same place, but that's just semantics.

After going through the motions of opening the tree-lock and descending the stairs, you arrive again before the dwarves' front door. A trio of knocks sees the door swing open to reveal Toki's smiling face.

"Halla!" He exclaims as he invites you into his home. A serving dwarf swiftly approaches with a beetle husk and stone-carved mug laden tray, both of which Toki accepts and offers to you. When you simply stare at it, he blinks and explains, "Oh, yes, you wouldn't know." Clearing his throat with a cough, he continues, "This is a recent invention after an incident involving a doppleganger. Simply gargle this," he gestures to the mug, "and spit in the beetle and we'll see if you are who you say you are."

Squinting, you hesitantly lift the mug to your lips and accept it into your mouth.

For the second time that week, you immediately regret putting something in your mouth. It tastes like the slime at the bottom of the lake—don't ask—if it were somehow more gunky and greasy and impossibly dry all at the same time. It sloshes around your mouth in a great lump of solid-yet-equally-mushy pseudo-liquid. Gargling it is a struggle, but a struggle you muddle through.

Black gunk splatters across the beetle shell and, as nothing happens, you find yourself greeted by an even happier Toki.

"Halla, it is you!" He shouts with glee as he wraps you in a hug, his seemingly ever-thicker beard feels rather itchy to the touch—does the size of a dwarf's beard somehow convey importance? As he pulls away, he offers a slight bow as a greedy gleam enters his beady eye, "Have you come seeking further trade?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes," the smile on Toki's face broadens ever-further as he claps and leads you to the negotiations chamber.

There, you undergo the customary rites and drinking of poison before beginning.

Goodwill: 7
Current Balance: +6

Dorri's Holdings:
300 Food) 1 Food = +1 Balance
700 Goods) 3 Goods = +1 Balance
1,502 Balance-worth of Dwarf Coins

Their Holdings:
Resources:
Forged Iron) 12oz = -1 Balance
Magical Metal) 6oz (Write In) = -1 Balance
Socket Stones) 1 Stone = -1 Balance
Precious Gemstones) 1oz = -1 Balance
Semi-Precious Gemstones) 2oz = -1 Balance
(Others determined via thread discussion)

Knowledge:
(Determined via thread discussion)

Services:
(Determined via thread discussion)

How do you wish to proceed?
[ ] Write in

0~0~0

AN: So, your cultivation mishap turning out this way was the culmination of a lot of things lining up all at once.

I can't say much more then that.

I'll do the owl gatcha at the end of the turn.

15-minute moratorium, only update for today.
 
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Summer 10/Dwarf Negotiations
Depictions of cognitive decline
[X] Plan Only Iron
-[X] Give the dwarves 300 Food, 702 Goods (2 of them from us), and 1,502 in Dwarf-Coins (+2,036 Balance)
-[X] Receive 22,116 oz Forged Iron (-1843 Balance)
-[X] Receive 1,152 oz of various magical metals (192 oz each of Molten, Ripple, Muddy, Icy, Drafty, and Storm Iron) (-192 Balance)
0~0~0
Dwarf
Toki's face splits in half with a millstone-filled grin as he looks upon the offer. Greed shines in his beady, wrinkle-encased eye like a beacon in a night storm as his rock dust-filled eyebrows climb his brow. The already-musty air gains a certain sweet tinge, the sign of a dwarf's excitement rising. There's no way he'd ever even consider refusing it, not with how much he stands to gain.

Trembling from giddy eagerness, Toki practically leaps across the table in an effort to shake your hand. So eager is he that he actually misses your hand entirely and you have to spend a couple silent seconds awkwardly fumbling around for each other. Despite the judgement-filled, jealous gazes of the mediator and his, well, judge, you and Toki eventually manage to exchange palms and the deal is struck in stone.

As Toki leads you back to the entrance of his ever-expanding underhouse, he strikes up a conversation as you pass by the door-less entryway to a chamber filled with soot-marked dwarves crouching before roaring furnaces and knee-high anvils.

"So, Skyfire," Toki says while pausing for a young, vaguely familiar dwarf pushing a wheelbarrow loaded with trinkets to pass on by. It's only as the dwarf disappears down a side tunnel that you recognize him as one of the dwarf-infants you met a few years back, "what do you need all this iron for anyways? It's a lot even for us skinspawn, easily sixty percent of our quarterly takings!"

"Armor and weapons," Toki seems to have no trouble at all hearing you over the constant, ear-filling din of hammer against anvil—you don't even have to yell! "There's a raid heading for our shores," Toki scratches his hat-adorned head at that word, "and so material is needed to make those arms and armor."

Toki nods at that, "Shame about the Ancestral Treaty, else we'd offer to sell you those arms and armor, but," he shrugs, seemingly untroubled by the matter, "alas, such is life in the mines."

For a moment, you're reminded of the carnage and slaughter of dwarves-at-war. The smell of cooking flesh fills your nostrils as images of feasting dwarves fills your mind and twists your stomach into knots. The sound of screams and sobbing voices silenced by hungry maws sends a shiver down your spine as the corners of your vision darken with shadows beyond the darkness of the underground.

For a moment, the memory of devouring dwarves disappears with hungry-eyed humans taking their place. With a close-eyed shudder, you master yourself and calm your rioting stomach. Your mind once more yours, you silently place one more praise-poem on the unknown names of those who negotiated the Ancestral Treaty. It's not the first time you've done that. It certainly won't be the last.

No matter how strong the resemblance, dwarves are not human. It's something you sometimes have to remind yourself, but it's not something you'll ever truly forget.

The recent dreams don't let you.

0~0~0
Underhouse
You needed a break from dwarves, so you go to a place filled with dead ones—ironic, you know.

Regardless of the inherent irony in it, clearing out the underhouse is something that needs to be done. Especially since it would make a great hideout. Which—with the raid coming in the not-so-distant future—is a rather attractive idea indeed.

As you move the dwarven bodies to the surface, you notice that even their long-dead bones turn to stone when bathed in the light of the sun—except for one. The sole skeleton that stays that way is none other then the swaddle-wrapped infant's, adding yet another notch to the mystery.

Seeing the lack of petrification reminds you of the ledger you have yet to find. Thankfully, you marked the doorway to the empty bedroom so you don't have to fear your memory failing you.

Entering the bedroom, you're greeted by a bed nestled lengthwise in the corner, a bedside chest across from you to the left of the bed, and an entrance-facing, cabinet-doored wardrobe immediately to your right at the foot of the bed. Stepping further inside, you consider where to start but, before you have a chance to really get into it, you realize just how silly it would be and decide to just start with the chest.

A sort of table extends from the inside of the chest top as you lift the lid, forming a solid surface for one to work on. Inside the chest is a number of personal belongings, among them is a collection of long-dried painting supplies, broken ceramics, and a bejeweled, hand-length beard comb. What catches your eye beyond the sundry, however, is a wood-bordered, dark-surface slate resting in a place of honor on its very own shelf.

Picking the slate up, you find it surprisingly heavy for how thin it appears. It's only about the size of your head and the wood that encases it is well-polished and clearly very expensive. You squint as your fingers detect the faintest hum of power pulsating beneath.

Following your intuition, you run a finger across the surface. Shockingly, a trail of ripples follows your fingertip, just as if you'd swiped it through water. The ripples fade and, with that seemingly the signal, light suddenly shines to life in the shadow-draped room—the source the suddenly glowing rectangle in your hands.

Lone-standing runes greet you in a grid-like pattern, seemingly inviting you to punch in a series. Shrugging, you gently tap your name in as the runes appear in a previously empty box. You only get two runes into your kenning when the surface turns red and an angry beep rings out. Wincing, you look down just as the red disappears alongside your unfinished name.

Looks like you've only got, oh, six runes in before it devoured what you wrote. You get the feeling this will be a pain, but at least you finished clearing out and preparing the underhouse for human habitation!

Now then, to discuss it with the family...

After getting some work done, of course!

(The Underhouse is now available as a Hideout)
0~0~0
Crafting rolls are at the bottom.
Dorri examines the sword hanging from your belt with an appreciative eye as his men help yours to unload the cart you rode in on. "That's a magnificent sword," he mentions as you hand him the wax tablet listing the cart's contents. His brows rise alongside a low whistle, as he silently reads to himself. He doesn't continue speaking, too caught up in reading the list over and over again.

Picking up the slack with a sly grin, you nonchalantly shrug and twirl a finger through your hair, "Oh, you mean this little thing?" You tap a soot-blackened fingernail against the flame tongue-shaped pommel, "Well, I'm planning on naming it Burning Caress—after I test its edge in battle, of course."

"Of course," Dorri absentmindedly mutters as he's forced to pull his gaze away from the tablet. He can't help but shake his head in awe as a half-choked laugh leaps free, "You are a woman of many talents, Halla Skyfire, and I suppose this is only to be expected, but thirty shirts of mail?" He shakes his head again as an outburst of astonished breath escapes his lips, "I've heard of such things before, we all have, but only in the context of kingly smiths and saga-forging legends—nothing I imagined I'd ever see with my own eyes."

"Just doing my part," you couldn't keep the pride-filled smile off your face even if you tried, "I'm sure there's a lot of people who'd do the same if they could."

Dorri shakes his head once more, this time in denial. "There are many who would if they could, but they are not the one who did it." His virthing manifests around his shoulders as your breath catches in your throat. Gripping the windchime-laden edge of the ruby-scaled material with both hands, the Headsman tears away a large strip of his soul. Taking a knee, you bow your head as Dorri lays the orthstirr-packed fragment of manifested might upon your shoulders.

Your strength rises as his respect joins with your own, becoming one in honorable harmony. You rise to your feet a stronger woman, one surrounded by the thunderous applause of cheering friends and family. They all know how hard you worked on these pieces, they all know the respect you deserve. To see you receive your just desserts?

Glorious.

(+45 Orthstirr, a gift from Dorri Rattlespear for a job well done)
(Burning Caress added to inventory. This is a Wondrous quality sword made of Molten Metal. It was forged with Wolf Bone-Ash and is covered in runes of armor-piercing and edge-protection. It provides 9d6 Combat Dice.)
(Twin Snake Arm-Rings added to inventory. They are both of Wondrous quality and are made from intertwining braids of gold and silver. One band—a golden dragon wrapped around a silver tree—bears runes to strengthen the bearer's blows while the other—a golden dragon wrapped around a silver spear—adds haste to their movements. These, when worn together, provide the wearer with +1 to Melee Damage and +1 to their Speed)
0~0~0
Talking to the family
Stepping into your father's hall is like stepping into a cliff wall. There's no give to the tension in the air, only mounting stress.

Steinarr sits alone atop the high chair with his arms on his knees and an untouched bowl of stew at his side. He stares into the crackling hearth-fire as a graying Randi tends to it, a grim shadow of his jaw-clenched face.

As you enter the room, though, his eyes leave the fire to connect with yours. A long-held breath escapes the mouth of all inhabitants as Steinarr rises to his feet, crosses the short distance with a single stride, and pulls you into a deep embrace. You return it, of course, as you cast an arched-brow question about the room—a question that receives little more then thinned lips and shrugs as answers.

Releasing the embrace, Steinarr invites you in and seats you at his side—after handing his cold meal off to Randi first. With Sten on his right and you on his left, Steinarr seems genuinely happy for the first time since you broke the news of the coming raid to him.

Clapping both of his eldest children present on the shoulder, the corners of Steinarr's eyes wrinkle as a broad, honest smile cracks his face in two. "It's been too long since you've been home, Halla!"

Your brows furrow at that, but you let it go. Steinarr is allowed to be a little possessive in his old age, you reckon. "It's good to be back, Dad," you nod while mirroring his smile, "but I was here just the other day? I was helping Sten with his shields, remember?"

Steinarr blinks, honest confusion flickering across his brow, "I... You were?" He shakes his head, an embarrassed laugh leaving his lips, "I, uh, I must have missed you, then, been too caught up thinking about the raid, you see."

He's not convincing you, but Sten shakes his head and something in his eye chills your blood, so you say nothing of it. He clears his throat and leans forward, "Hey, Halla, didn't you say you would help me load the cart up with the shields?"

"Oh yeah, I did!" You didn't, but Sten clearly has something he needs to say in privacy.

Steinarr looks between you and Sten as the two of you rise to your feet. "You need help with the cart?" He makes to follow you to the door, but Sten stops him with a raised hand.

"No, Dad, it's fine," Sten says as he opens the door, but that's not enough to stop Steinarr.

"No, it's not," he says as he fully rises to his feet, the sight of his still-strong limbs soothing your fears like a warm blanket banishes the cold, "It's my memory that's failing, not my strength!"

Sten winces and sucks a hiss through clenched teeth as he deploys his final measure, "Halla and I are leaving to have a private conversation, Dad."

It works like a charm, stopping Steinarr in his tracks with a small, "Oh, well, carry on, then."

To see a man like Steinarr shuffling back to his chair like a chastised child fills you with a deep sense of wrongness. Something's very wrong, but you'll hold your tongue until you and Sten are alone.

Shutting the door behind him, you and Sten stand before the twilight glow of the setting sun.

You break the silence before it has a chance to form, "Dad said his memory is failing. How bad is it?"

Sten sighs, "Dad never had an amazing memory, you know this as well as I," you hesitantly nod at that, recalling more then a few times he's forgotten to teach you rather important things, "but with the raid coming... He's gotten worse, significantly worse, and quickly. Confused me for his brother a few days ago, even."

"Did you take him to the Seeress? Is it nidheart, do you think?"

Sten nods, "As soon as I realized something was wrong, yeah. She said that it probably wasn't nidheart, but that his soul was shrouded by powerful, divine magic so she couldn't tell anyways. Gave him some gunk-smeared leaves to chew on and it helped, but not for long."

"Do you think..." You can barely bring yourself to say it, but you have to ask, "I-is he dying?"

Sten doesn't answer, which is an answer in of itself.

The rest of the night is a blur, but you remember telling Sten of the Underhouse and suggesting sending all non-combatants to it—which, as much as he might deny it, now includes your father. Sten, the acting man of the house, agrees to your plan.

As Sten returns to the hall, you're left alone on the porch step—when, exactly, you ended up there you've no idea. The slowly-igniting stars up-high greet your gaze with twinkles, careless to the state of the world. For a moment, you consider flying up there and breaking them all for daring to shine while your father doesn't.

It's only as you crouch down and muster your orthstirr that the gruff voice of Blackhand enters your head, 'You're upset, but the stars aren't at fault for Steinarr's condition. Nobody is. All we can do is live on for him, shining brighter then the stars would ever dare.'

Of course, it's not actually him, just what you imagine he'd say in this scenario. Still, it's probably good advice, right?

...Gods, you miss Blackhand right now.

(Your family will store their food, supplies, and non-combatants in the Underhouse for the duration of the raid.)
0~0~0
Seeress
Standing before the Seeress' red-and-white tent, you pause at the entrance. You've got a list of questions in mind to ask her, but, with the recent turn of events, perhaps there's something else you'd like to ask?

Is there?
[ ] Yes, there is!
-[ ] Write in
[ ] No, there isn't. Proceed with your current lot of questions
-[X] (Seeress) Learn seidr with the Seeress (Only available during Summer)
--[X] Learn the seidr area for combat spells useful when dealing with other humans, whatever ones Solrun knows anyway
--[X] Reprise our question about where she stays in the winter and invitation to stay with us if she would prefer
--[X] Ask about the early warning she got last time, see how that worked and if duplicating it might be possible
0~0~0

AN: Well, there sure was a lot of funky times with this one, that's for sure. I had a lot of fun writing this one, I won't lie. Seems like a break every once in a while is a good idea, ha!

Regardless, I decided to cut it off here for two reasons. 1: You folks would probably appreciate the opportunity to ask Solrun some different questions. 2: My dog recently got spayed and I need to watch her, which means I can't write at the same time.

I decided to only forge a sword to match Ashen Kiss rather then also reforging Ashen Kiss alongside it as that would really be an action in of itself.

Arm Rings
Forging: (20+15+3+3) 41 Successes
Runes: (15+15+3+3) 36 Successes

Burning Caress
Forging: (28+15+3+2) 48 Successes
Runes: (8+15+3+2) 28 Successes

No moratorium, but this'll be the only update for today.
 
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Summer 10/Revenge Raid 0
Depictions of grief
[X] Yes, there is!
-[X] ask about Steinarr's condition and what kinds of things she knows we might be able to do to help him, even temporarily.
-[x] ask about the Divine shroud around Steinarr's soul: what it is, what it does, what it means, where it comes from
-[X] Reprise our question about where she stays in the winter and invitation to stay with us if she would prefer
0~0~0

Amidst the colorful tapestry of the Asvir autumnal season stands a leaf-swamped tent. Piles of once-fallen now-raked leaves stand like sentinels guarding the home of an honored member of the community. The ground crunches beneath your feet as you wave to Arnfinn Heavystep, Torgny Shocker, and Somerled Lungingwalk—who had become friends over the course of their time with you—as they rake yet more leaves from the ever-filling ground. They smile and return the wave before getting back to work.

Staring at the blue-cloth flap to the Seeress' tent, your thoughts could only charitably be described as 'orderly.' You leap from one potential to the next, from the stories of 'dopplegangers' to where she goes in the winter, but it always returns back to your father eventually.

Steinarr... Age has a way of bringing the greatest of men to their knees. You'd heard the tales just like everyone, of how warriors once unstoppable were felled by the creak of their knees and the pain in their back. It's just that, well, there's a difference between hearing stories and witnessing them with your own two eyes.

Honestly, it's difficult to just accept that this is how it is now. He was fine just a few months ago! Or, well, at least he looked it. What changed between then and now? Was it the news of the approaching raid? Was that, to borrow a phrase from Gary Tuskpuncher, the straw that broke the camel's back?

Or... Or was it, maybe, Asveig's death? He fell into a deep depression after it, his grief driving him to do and say terrible things to the undeserving. If it were another spirit, then, at least, you could solve the problem with a precise application of violence! Something tells you, though, that this is different.

Besides, even ridding Steinarr's lands of the scorn-pole didn't return him to his previous self—though sometimes you caught a flicker of the man who raised you in the man who he returned to. It wasn't ever clear, just the way he'd deliver a joke or in how he'd tilt his head, but it was there. It was enough to latch on to, for him to be your father in truth rather then name.

It's still there, even now, but it's faded yet further.

But maybe, just maybe—you set your jaw as you stare at the Seeress' tent, having finished organizing your thoughts—there's something you can do about it.

Striding forward boldly, you fling the tent flap aside with far too much force, leaving you standing awkwardly before the Seeress with her now-tattered door dangling from your fist. She sighs and sets a new pot of tea to boil. It's going to be a long, long day, you can feel it. As soon as you crossed the threshold, it was like the world was placed on your shoulders

"You're upset," you stiffen as she breaks the nascent silence threatening to grow between you.

"I'm not," the lie leaving a shameful, acrid taste on your tongue.

She pauses in her grinding of tea leaves to give you the look—a half-lidded, eyebrow-arching, chin-tucking expression of utter doubt and complete disbelief. It's a look that could quell the heart of a raging berserk. A look that expresses her thoughts and opinions far better then mere words ever could. A single, gentle sentence leaves her lips—the perfectly spoken accent mark to the raw power of the look, "You are safe here, Halla Steinarsdottir."

Unwanted words slip free from your lips, "I... It's just..." You swallow the lump in your throat, the brief pause all it takes to unleash the flood that had been building for well over a week.

Tears stream down your face as you collapse backwards into a chair that wasn't there before, but you're in no place right now to question it. You sob into your hands as the mournful cry of a nearby raven fills your ears. Your dry-throated, heaving moans soon join its symphony of tears as time passes at a glacial pace.

At some point, you ran out of tears—but your sorrow still remains.

The sudden warmth of a teacup against your hands is a lifeline you grab with all ten fingers. The nectar enters your mouth as the once bitter taste now coats your throat and tongue with liquid compassion. Like a caring mother's unconditional embrace, it warms your entire body with its love.

"Take as long as you need," Solrun says as she brews another pot—the last having followed the first cup down your throat, "I'll be here."

Two pots later, your heartrate settles as you feel like you can breathe again.

"Thank you," your voice is a hoarse husk despite the cups of tea, beaten bloody by your full-body sobs. 'Really, I... I don't know how I'd..." You trail off, not sure where to go.

"Are you ready? It's okay if you're not," Solrun asks gently as she sits down across from you, her own teacup in her hands—the first she'd brewed for herself since you arrived.

"I am," you nod, surprising yourself with how true those words actually are. It's then that you realize just how much you needed this, how much you needed someone to talk to. Abjorn tries, and you love him for it, but this is not where his talents lie. The loss of Blackhand's ever-present well of advice and wisdom stands ever-starker with every passing day.

Solrun returns the nod, "Then begin whenever, and wherever, you're most comfortable."

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you do just that, "It's... It's my father," Solrun's eyes shine with understanding. "I'm," you sigh, "I-I just want to know why this is happening. Why Steinarr? Why," your voice cracks, "my Dad?"

Waiting a moment to make sure you finish, Solrun folds her hands in her lap and tries to answer, "Put simply, the human body and mind is simply not built to burn as brightly has he for as long as he has. This is a common occurrence amongst our people, the price we pay to gain glories at an unmatched pace. But, in your bloodline, that trait shines far brighter then most. Towards the end of his life, Blackhand," she sighs, her eyes seeing sights unknown as you listen in silence, "was a tragic, mess of a man. His joints were calcifying almost before our eyes as a lifetime of violence finally caught up to him. His skin was barely attached, so much so that I once watched him accidentally strip the skin from his arm after getting it caught on a fish hook. His mind, though, was still sharp."

"Which, well, isn't the case for Dad," you honestly don't know which you'd rather suffer. The loss of the mind or the loss of the body? All you can do is hope your fated day comes before that time, else you find out for yourself, "Is there anything that can be done?"

"I spend all summer peddling my services to Asvir so that I can spend all winter pursuing an answer to that question," she looks down at her withered, age spot-ridden hands as a sigh escapes her lips. "In all that time, after all those years, I've found only one solution; the apples Idunn cultivates in her orchard."

You lean in, "How do I get there?"

Solrun shakes her head and your heart sinks, "Idunn doesn't give out apples for nothing, not after Loki's cruelties. In order to get even the skins," she turns her head to where a hand-tall jar half-filled with golden apple skins sits in an honored spot atop a small shrine, "I had to promise her the last fruit of my womb."

"You promised her Kolla," the words ring hollow to your ears, the horror of such a concept leaving a foul taste in your mouth.

"I did," the Seeress hangs her head in honest shame. "In truth, though she comes from my womb, I am only Kolla's foster mother. One day, one day Idunn will come for her," her jaw tightens as she forces out the next words, "and I will be alone once more."

"If you'd like," it's an impulsive decision, but a just one nonetheless, "you can live with me?"

Solrun's nod is infinitesimal, her voice quieter than the most moss-toed mouse, "I'd like that, yes."

"Alright," you say, already thinking of where to lodge her in your home, "I... have one more question, if that's alright?"

It's a bit surreal to have been comforted by her one moment to comforting her the next. Regardless, she nods, a flicker of humor in her eye, "Go ahead. I'm rather good at answering questions, I've found."

You chuckle light-heartedly, desperate for something to break the tension even just a little bit, "Well, Sten said that there was a 'divine shroud' concealing Steinarr's soul. What do you know about that? When did it appear? What does it do? Things like that."

"It," Solrun frowns ever-so-slightly as she considers the question, "is like nothing I've ever seen in all my years and I've borne witness to Valkyrie Protection before, but this is beyond even them."

"Valkyrie Protection?"

"Valkyries are capable of wrapping those they deem worthy in shrouds of magical protection. Their magic makes mine look like a parlor trick, yet this... I can't imagine that anyone else other then the Gods would be capable of such a thing." Solrun tries a laugh, like she can't believe that it exists, "I can't even feel its presence, let alone see or even attempt to do anything about it! The only reason I know it's there is that I can't feel his soul!"

You know it's not true, but you have to ask, "Do you think it could be, well..."

"The cause?" Solrun takes your hands in her own. "Oh child, Steinarr has done nothing to draw the Gods' ire. He serves them as well as any man could ever hope to." She releases your hands and rises to her feet, gesturing for you to follow her to the shrine. "Come, I'll show you how to prepare the skins for your-"

The world rattles as the long, drawn-out blare of a war horn fills the air.

"Father..." Solrun trails off as she turns her Seersight pointlessly on the oceans, knowing the same as you exactly what that horn means. "They're here," she whispers, her voice trembling in fear as she snatches the jar from the shrine, "Three ships, two-hundred and thirty men." Your blood chills in your veins as her once-more normal eyes flick to you, "Go, child, and tell the Headsman," she says as she lifts the lid on a chest to retrieve a cloak of glossy black feathers before swiftly wrapping it around her shoulders, "I will tell your family and give your father," the jar rattles in her hands, "this."

You don't get to respond as, the moment the cloak clasps shut, an elderly raven takes the place of your vanished mentor. Solrun-raven eyes you just long enough to make sure you understand before flapping her wings and soaring through the now-empty doorway—leaving you all alone.

Gods, just once, you'd really like to have a break.

Nevertheless, you've a job to do. Steeling yourself, you set out to do just that.

0~0~0
The War Council
"Two-hundred and thirty men," Dorri collapses against his chair as he ages twenty years in half as many seconds. "Where'd they get so many?"

Framarr Heavyhand, Dorri's eldest son and heir-apparent, steps forward with a piece of birch bark in hand. He lays it flat against the map-laden war room table and points to the charcoal drawing of a three-headed seabird in flight upon it, "Scouts saw this emblem on the biggest ship. It might answer the question."

Dorri leans in to get a better look, quickly collecting himself in the process, "That's the symbol of Aggilsfjord, a Jarldom not far from here." He taps a finger against an armrest, digging a dent deeper with every seemingly-light tap. "We harried there last summer, during the famine. This must be their revenge."

Logi picks then to speak up, "If we muster every able-bodied man in the Valley, we could just about match that number—if we loosened our definitions of 'able-bodied'." He pauses for a moment, "And also 'man.'"

"In times of trouble," Dorri murmurs under a sigh, "boys must wield their father's swords."

"Will we receive any help from Corpsemaker?" Framarr asks as he eyes the map of potential landing sites.

Logi's laugh is a harsh, cruel thing. "A foolish question, boy! Corpsemaker's been waiting for an opportunity like this for years, there's not a chance we'll see even a single arrowhead of help from him."

Dorri doesn't stop him, which is telling in of itself. "Two-hundred and thirty men on three ships leaves little room for supplies, let alone personal space. They'll be looking for a quick resupply and a chance to stretch their legs before the big fight." He nods towards one of the silent servants in the hall, "Send a message to the coastal farms that their families are welcome in my hall and to leave their supplies behind—it'll only slow them down. I'll reimburse them for any lost goods."

The servant sucks in a deep, nervous breath before bowing, pivoting on the spot, and then tearing out from the hall with a trail of fire following his footsteps. As the servant makes his exit, Logi leans in with narrowed eyes and a sly grin, "I'd know that look on your face anywhere, Dorri. What's brewing in that big brain of yours?"

Dorri chuckles and leans on an arm, "They'll want to resupply as soon as possible, which means that they'll send parties out to hit the closest farms. One farm won't be enough to keep all those men fed, though, so they'll have to send out many bands at once. They'll also have to leave men behind to guard the ships and every man left behind is another not going out to bring back food, which means that they'll be forced to give that role to their best, most effective warriors."

"Meaning that their best won't be with the foraging parties," Logi mirrors his best friend's chuckle, a bloodthirsty gleam in his fiery eyes, "Which leaves both vulnerable."

"How will we take advantage?" Framarr scratches at his arm, looking rather uncomfortable to have so many people around him. He's the kind of person who likes to be by themselves, free to pursue their own interests without fear of any disturbance. With the hall as packed as it is, he can't be happy.

"We could hit their ships," Logi suggests, clearly eager to test himself against strong foes. "Taking out both their rides and their best would deal a heavy blow to their willingness to fight."

"It would, however, leave those foraging bands free rein to plunder our homes as they please," Dorri frowns as he leans back in his chair. "Something I am rather loathe to do."

"We could," Folkmarr speaks up for the first time, "do both, right? Our best fight their best while the rest fight their rest."

As the council falls silent to mull it over, you realize that this may very well be the best chance you get to have your say.

What do you do?
[ ] Side with Logi and hit the ships with all you have
[ ] Side with Dorri and mop up the foraging bands
[ ] Side with Folkmarr and send your best to the ships while the rest deal with the plunderers
[ ] Suggest something else (Write in)
[ ] Say nothing and let fate have its way

0~0~0

AN: Man, this was a lot of fun to write. I must admit that I've missed getting to really dig into a scene.

No moratorium, but this'll be the only update for today, like as not.
 
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Summer 10/Revenge Raid 1
[X] Side with Dorri and mop up the foraging bands
0~0~0

Silence chokes the shadow-cast, empty side hall you find yourself in—one of many in Dorri Rattlespear's hall. A thin trickle of smoke rises from the remains of a fallen friendly fire, its loss leaving you engulfed in the encroaching chill of the autumn season. A few leaves ride the gentle breeze through the open window. Your preparations stutter as one fluttering leaf alights upon your knee.

Pulling your boot strings taut and tucking them in, you lean back on the crate serving as your seat. Your eyes stay locked to the leaf as the same wind it rode in on plays with the loose strands of your hair. A frown crosses your face as a deep red lock flutters into view. You'll have to redo your hair before you go—wouldn't want to get it caught in combat, after all.

Regardless of the state of your hair, your thoughts linger on the red-hued leaf on your knee, cast adrift on its own.

Driving off the odd lump staking a claim in your throat, you brush away the leaf and rise to your feet. With one hand tightening your belt, the other gropes around for your helmet in the dim light of the hall. Distracted as you are, you only barely notice the wood creak announcing someone's arrival in the room.

"Halla," you freeze in your search just as your fingers find cold iron, the voice of your father filling your ears, "I've come to see you off, and to give you some advice."

Orientating towards the door, a large, rock spike-laden dog greets your gaze. Steinarr's fylgja licks its nose as he pads on over to you, his tail wagging gently in his wake. You return to the crate, brows furrowed and voice quiet as you attempt to make sense of your feelings.

"Did Solrun...?" Your voice lifts in a question as you trail off.

"I have a few days," Steinarr bobs his head as he takes a seat at your side. His soulful, doggy eyes are wet with sorrowful finality, "but, lets not talk about me. Right now, it's important that you know what you're going into."

You frown, something in his tone has you concerned, "You say that like you're not going to be there with me."

"Because I'm not," he affirms with a nod. "Someone has to stay behind to protect the hideout and I'm already there. I'm the logical choice."

As much as you may hate it, he's not wrong. Any reshuffling would take too much time and Steinarr is strong enough to take on a band by himself, like as not... Right?

"You, uh, you said you had some advice for me?"

"I did, yes," he says as he turns his head towards the sea, "You've adventured before and have fought large groups of people, but that's not the same as this. I don't know what you and Dorri and the others have decided upon, but if you wind up in mass combat, you need to know some things." He takes a deep breath before continuing, the surreality of getting a lesson in combat from a dog is not lost on you, "The single most important thing to remember is that you will not have much of an idea of how the battle is going, not if you're on the ground. You'll be able to see your immediate surroundings, but that's generally not enough to tell the state of the greater battle. All you can do is focus on completing your objective. Whether that's merely surviving or making a name for yourself or what have you, focus your efforts on that while not overextending yourself."

"Are you telling me," you frown as your brows furrow, "to hold back?"

"Never," Steinarr vehemently shakes his head, doggy jowls waving around wildly, "All I'm saying is that you'll hit your limits far quicker then you expect, as battles are often long, drawn-out affairs. When that happens, you'll have no choice but to pull back else face your demise. It is important to marshal your strength so that you aren't exhausted when your friends need your help, or the enemy commander is vulnerable, or a breach is opening in the line."

"I see," you say as, for the first time in a long time, you have to rely on your memory alone to remember things. "Thank you for the advice, Dad."

Steinarr chuckles, "I'm not done just yet, Halla. I've got a lot more experience to impart."

You blink as a warm flush ignites upon your face, "Oh."

"Though you are called Skyfire, you probably should stay on the ground," Steinarr carries on like nothing happened. "Fliers are some of the first to fall in the beginning of a battle, in my experience, given that everyone is fresh and full of fighting vigor with which to blast you from the sky. Wait until the route, when both sides are exhausted, to take flight and wreak havoc."

The rest of Steinarr's advice is less revelatory, but still useful. He mentions things like keeping your head on a swivel, taking care to avoid hitting the men to your left and right with your swings, and making sure that you don't advance too far from your friends, amongst other things. Simple stuff, but still good advice.

Eventually, the conversation peters off into silence. When, exactly, it started you don't know, but your hand rests upon Steinarr's doggy head as you run fingers through his craggy fur. You don't know what to say to him.

So you don't.

0~0~0

The scouts report that there are a number of bands heading out from the raider's camp. The time has come for battle.

It seems there are four bands heading out, consisting of a hundred and ninety men in total. That leaves about forty men to guard the ships. Each of the four bands has different numbers, with the largest being sixty-five, the next numbing fifty-five, the third having forty, and the smallest counting thirty.

Dorri is going against the largest band, Logi is leading against the second largest, Framarr is leading against the third, and Folkmarr is in command against the smallest. A force of about forty is being left behind to protect Asvir, just in case.

Who are you (and your retainers) following?
[ ] Dorri
[ ] Logi
[ ] Framarr
[ ] Folkmarr
[ ] Stay behind

0~0~0

AN: So I lied about not updating today, I guess.

15 minute moratorium.
 
Summer 10/Revenge Raid 2
[X] Dorri
-[X] Have Folkmarr and Frammar lead scouting groups to follow the 2 smaller grouos, while Dorri and Logi take large groups to crush the larger enemy groups. Then swing round and wipe out the 2 smaller groups with aid from the scouts in finding them.
0~0~0

When you were young, barely even old enough to know the names of your parents, you used to boast that should raiders come to your shores, you'd drive them off with fire and steel.

Today, so many years later, you aim to make good on that boast.

Gripping Sagaseeker tight, you march near the front of Dorri's column as you head towards the largest group of enemies. With about eighty men at your back, it should be a piece of cake to cut them down, but things rarely turn out the way most wanted.

Unfortunately, with men like Hymir Evershade, Einarr Blurryblade, Nainn Rotting, Kelldorr Crowfoot, and your own brother Sten among the ranks, you don't quite make the grade for champion status. A pity, but that's just how it goes sometimes. You'll still be near the spearhead, though, so that, at least, is to be celebrated!

The ground beneath your feet is wet and mushy as you march towards Kellfell—where Kelldorr Crowfoot lays his head. The marshlands near the coast make for poor fighting ground, but it is a disadvantaged shared with the raiders.

Only a few spots in the marshes are solid enough ground to farm and Kellfell is one of them. The raiders won't know that, though, so they'll likely leave towards the ships as soon as they spot Dorri's force. The quickest route to their landing site will take them across a purposefully dried riverbed—which, alongside other streams, had been dammed in preparation for the raid.

Once the raiders make for their ships, a signal will be given, and the waters unleashed. Cut off from their ships, the raiders will be forced to turn and fight else brave the waters. The plan had been discussed while marching and you find it agreeable.

However, you are of high enough standing to have a say in the plan, should you so desire. While you never ranged much into these parts of the Hading, you still know the locations of import. You could try to drive the raiders north, to where a small crevice cuts the earth. Forcing them into that would certainly be helpful, as you could block both ends and rain arrows upon them.

You could also try to drive them deeper into the marshlands, towards where the ground is merely a façade of floating grass and algae. They'd be at a terrible disadvantage in that fight, should that play out the way you desire.

Of course, you could just keep quiet and focus on the coming battle.

What do you do?
[ ] Suggest the crevice
[ ] Suggest the wetlands
[ ] Keep quiet

0~0~0

AN: Not much to say here

No moratorium, short vote, next update will be the beginning of combat.
 
Summer 10/Revenge Raid 3
[X] Keep quiet
0~0~0

The rumbling of water fills your ears as the ground squishes beneath your feet. It will be difficult to fight here, that much is certain, but it'll be just as difficult for your enemies. Thank the Gods for small mercies!

The enemy force numbers sixty-seven exactly while your side numbers eighty-two. Going off numbers alone, this should be over quickly. However, numbers alone rarely win the day. As Steinarr said, victory is achieved through a number of minor factors all adding up to a positive result.

The raiders come into view as you contemplate Steinarr's advice. They've quickly regrouped—a sign of a competent leader among them—and have formed a semi-circle of shields. Not only do they stand on soft ground, but the riverside has a lower elevation then where you'll be coming from.

Quickly coming up with a plan, Dorri splits his forces down the middle and has them both form spearheads. Directing Hymir Evershade to take command of the left charge, Dorri himself leads the right—which is where you find yourself placed. You're near the tip of the spear, about four men to Dorri's left. You'll be in the thick of it, but you wouldn't have it any other way.

Dorri lifts his ornate, bronze-headed spear to the sky and calls for the Gods' attention. Drawing his arm back as far as it can go, he casts the spear forward with all his might. It sails beautifully through the air as all eyes track its movement. The favor of the Gods will be shown through this spear-throw.

As it cracks a shield down the middle, you find yourself breathing a sigh of relief at such a good omen.

Wordless warcries fill the air with ferocity as the two spearheads make their charges in unison. The ground shakes as you add your voice to the mix. You scream for yourself, for your home, for your friends and family alike. But above all else, you scream for your father.

As the lines crash and men scream, you find yourself face to face with a bleach-blonde beard poking out from underneath an iron helm. A gambeson coats his body as he holds a strong shield in one hand and a sword in the other.

You know nothing of this man, beyond the fact that he's going to try his best to kill you—just as you do the same to him. He seems strong, likely about as strong as you are, but he's no Berserk. His skills are unknown, though he's clearly familiar with the sword.

Endurance: (15/15) | Frenzy: (6/6) (+6 to all Combat Rolls) | Armor Health: (42/42) (+9 to Defense)
Orthstirr: (905/944) | Odr: (108)
( ) Frami: 315 | ( ) Virthing: 315 | ( ) Saemd: 314
Sagaseeker has 49 orthstirr in his reservoir.
Emberguard has 13 orthstirr in its reservoir.
Shapeshifting + Runes are granting you (+2 Damage and +5 Attack-Speed)
Your combat pool is 129d6 and you have 18d6 Stoked Dice

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

0~0~0

AN: And here we go!

25-minute moratorium
 
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Summer 10/Revenge Raid 4
[X] **Plan It's a Marathon, Not a Sprint**
-[X] Preparation
--[X] Slowing-Slog (-9 Orthstirr) (+3 Stoked Dice) (+1 DR)
--[X] Slipstream (-8 Orthstirr) (+3 Stoked Dice)
--[X] Explosive-Reactive Armour (-9 Orthstirr) (+3 Stoked Dice)
--[X] Activate Stoker State (-9 Orthstirr)
--[X] Reinforce Shield (10 Layers) (-5 Orthstirr)
--[X] Invest 3 Orthstirr in Hugr, 1 in Composure, 4 in Tactics, 3 in Scouting (-11 Orthstirr)
-[X] Strategy
-[X] We probe his defences with a couple of Firebomb-Strikes and unleash our Devouring Blaze to clear any magical constructs before getting the party started with a Stoking Engage, intending to pummel his defences and build our Stoked Pool. When he inevitably tries to break our Stoking Engage, we counter with our Contested Movement to hit him hard.
--[X] If he reveals any surprising bullshit or One Weird Tricks, then break the combat round while we figure out what to do.

-[X] Attack (69d6)
--[X] Leap in with two 35d6+6 Sharpened Lightning-Charged Reversed Firebomb-Strikes with Puncture (-22 Orthstirr) (+6 Stoked Dice) to probe his defences, unleashing our 1d6 Devouring Blaze (-3 Stoked Dice) as close the distance to get rid of any surprises.
--[X] Continue with a Stoking Engage (-13 Orthstirr) (18 Stoked Dice), throwing eighteen 3d6+5 Sharpened Basic Attacks (-18 Orthstirr), with +6 Speed.

-[X] Defence (69d6)
--[X] Summon a 40d6+10 Atgeir Guard. (-46 Orthstirr)
--[X] If it looks like we can simply ignore incoming attacks, then do so. Don't let it break our rhythm with Stoked Engage.
--[X] Use up to two 30d6+10 Sway defences to try and keep our rhythm going a bit longer with Stoking Engage, weaving out of the way of attacks that would interrupt us.
--[X] When we get towards the end of our Stoking Engage, get interrupted, or he throws a particularly scary-looking attack, we go to...

-[X] Counter-Attack
-[X] (-3 Orthstirr) Contested Movement + X Stoked Dice
--[X] If we have at least thirty Stoked Dice in our pool, then throw all of our pool except six Stoked Dice into a Sharpened Lightning-Charged Stoking Strike with Puncture (-11 Orthstirr) which we combine with a Delayed Firebomb Strike (+3 Stoked Dice) (- ?? Orthstirr for layering another Trick on top). The six remaining Stoked Dice go into the Hamr check.
--[X] The three Stoked Dice generated from our FBS are saved for next turn.
--[X] If something went wrong and we didn't land that many Basics, then throw our whole Stoked Pool into Contested Movement, and hit him with a Spark-Bomb with Puncture (-24 Orthstirr).

-[X] Total Orthstirr expenditure: -173 Orthstirr (-186 Orthstirr if we use Sparkbomb) (-12 extra Orthstirr if we use a final Firebomb-Strike to finish him off)
-[X] Total Stoked Dice Accounting: 18 + 15 - 3 - 18 + Stoking Engage = 12 + Stoking Engage
0~0~0

Blonde-beard's eyes narrow beneath his helmet as you close the distance in a single short step. Your limbs are a blur as your speed takes you far further, far faster then expected. You're quick, too quick. He's not going to be able to effectively retaliate against your blows, not at the tempo you're setting for this fight.
(Shield Sacrifice)
The first blow—a probing strike meant to suss out his defenses—rides a fiery explosion as you bring it down with full intent to kill. Though the fight ending in a single move is more then doubtful, Steinarr's words of wisdom yet ring through your head. 'Every blow should be to kill,' that's what he said so many years ago. It was good advice then and it's good advice now.

Blonde-beard lifts his shield just as Sagaseeker's falling blade crackles with crimson lightning. It's a beautiful swing, perfectly timed and perfectly executed. Just looking at it would tell an onlooker all they needed to know about your skill.

However, when Sagaseeker's iron edge meets the shield's iron boss and the ringing clank of metal-on-metal fills your ears, the shield doesn't shatter. Instead, it stands tall and proud as it deflects your weapon away—leaving your rhythm disrupted and you wide open.

The shield shifts aside, revealing a trio of shining blue spectral swords lying in wait for an opportunity just like this one. They launch into motion as soon as Sagaseeker bounces, leaving blue streaks in their trail as they close the gap in a fraction of a heartbeat.
(Devouring Blaze)
But close the gap they fail to do as a palmful of fire sprays forth. Crimson flames hungrily seek out all there is to feast upon. Blue orthstirr vanishes into the ever-starving maw of the Devouring Flames, lost to the all-consuming depths of your might.

Blonde-beard's eyes widen as the flames wash over him, stripping him of his orthstirr armor and leaving him wearing nothing more then a gambeson and his helm for protection. His jaw tightens as Sagaseeker leaps back into action, once more riding a plume of flames.
(Shield Sacrifice)
You swing towards the sky as lightning crackles again across your blade. Again, blonde-beard's shield darts to intercept. Again, edge meets boss. Again, the ringing clang of iron-on-iron fills the air. Again, he sacrifices his shield.

But this time, things are different.

His shield's boss dents inwards as the wood snaps straight down the middle. Splinters lodge against the mushy ground as blonde-beard sways away from your blow—robbed of its strength by his shield's sacrifice, there's little you can do to counter this. As Sagaseeker strikes at the sky and ruins your rhythm, blonde-beard makes his move.
(Honed Trick Attack: 82 vs Atgeir Guard: 144+10=154, Defender Wins!)
An axe hidden behind his shield comes up as he lashes out with his sword. Fine iron carves the air to slivers as he aims to cleave away your leg at the knee, but spectral iron stops it in its tracks before it can even truly start.

However, though your summoned atgeir rebukes blonde-beard's sword, his other arm snaps out as the blue-coated axe slips free of his hand. It spins through the air with supernatural force as it sails past the clash of atgeir and sword on its path straight towards your face.
(Honed Trick Attack: 106 vs Trick Defense: 116+15=131, Defender Wins!)
Eyes snapping wide, you sway out of the way just in time to avoid the attack. The axe keeps flying, though, and your eyes snap even wider as you lock gazes with the young man behind you.
(Luck: 2 on a d20)
Though he had his shield at the ready, Agnar Bjarnesson wasn't prepared for an axe to suddenly come flying straight for him and so he pays the price. Blood leaks from around the axe embedded in his face as the lovingly-painted shield—which he'd received as an empty canvas from Sten the day before—slips free from limp fingers. Shield and spear thump against the muddy ground as their master follows soon after.

Though you weren't at fault for him being in the wrong place at the wrong time, you can't help but feel responsible for the young man's death. You'll have to make it up to him after the battle—as long as he hasn't met his fated day, of course.

Regardless, you've a man to kill.

Turning your attention back to blonde-beard, your jaw tightens as the fires of your heart's wrath stoke ever higher. So he wants to pull out some tricks, does he? Fine! Two can play at that game, after all!
(Exchange is in spoilers at the bottom)
Fire leaks from between your gritting teeth as sparks shine in your eye. Your limbs blur into flame-edged motion as Sagaseeker lashes out with ferocious force. Blow after blow rains down upon blonde-beard as he struggles ever harder to keep up the pace. Despite how much he struggles to defend, it's clear that he's very skilled. In the sliver of space in between each blow, he lashes out a lightning-fast strike in response. It lacks any real strength—the strength it has isn't enough to stop your assault—but it's enough to shear more then a few layers off your orthstirr armor.

Eventually, though, he couldn't keep it up forever. Through no fault of his own, the ground beneath his feet turns slick with blood and he slips. The opening is all you need to deliver a trio of undefended blows. The first tears open his armor, the second splits his flesh, and the third winds up buried in his stomach.

Wrenching Sagaseeker free, you breathe a sigh of relief as blonde-beard falls dead against the grass.

(Round Over)
0~0~0
(Tactics: 12+6) 18 Successes

You can't quite tell how the battle is going from where you stand, but the general sense is that it's going your way. The lines are starting to spread out more, too, which means that space is less of an issue.

You lock eyes with your next foe. Well, foes. Two of them. A thin-chinned man with an axe, shield, gambeson, and helmet steps forward while a helmeted, black-haired man wielding a spear in both hands follows behind.

Axe man is going to go on the attack while spear guy is covering defense. That doesn't mean that axe man won't defend or spear guy won't attack, it just means that that's what they're focusing on. You get the sense that they'll be burning a lot of orthstirr here (~20–40 dice for their moves). Axe man seems like he's, perhaps, a bit overconfident and spear guy feels like he's more then a bit nervous.

You don't sense any hugareida between them, which doesn't mean as much as you might wish. It's way more likely that they have one or two hugareidas that you just don't have rather then them not having anything.

Axe man is skilled at chopping while spear guy is shockingly good at intercepts. Both of them feel physically weaker then you, but axe man is stronger then spear guy.

Endurance: (15/15) | Frenzy: (6/6) (+6 to all Combat Rolls) | Armor Health: (42/42) (+9 to Defense) | Reinforce Layers: (4/10)
Orthstirr: (786/944) | Odr: (108)
( ) Frami: 315 | ( ) Virthing: 315 | ( ) Saemd: 314
Sagaseeker has 49 orthstirr in his reservoir.
Emberguard has 13 orthstirr in its reservoir.
Shapeshifting + Runes are granting you (+2 to Damage, and +5 Attack-Speed)
Your combat pool is 129d6 and you have 27d6 Stoked Dice

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

0~0~0

AN: Not much to say here other then that I need to get used to writing combat again, lmao.

25-minute moratorium.

Edit: Oh, wait! I forgot to mention that I've changed the way shields work. So, when you sacrifice your shield it disrupts your opponent's rhythm, which allows slower fighters to swing back at the quicker ones.


(Sharpened Attack: 10+6=16 vs Reinforced Defense: 12+2=14, Attacker Wins! 5 Damage! Armor Pierced!)
(Sharpened Attack: 7+6=13 vs Reinforced Defense: 11+2=13, Defender Wins Ties! 3-1=2 Damage to Attacker!)
(Sharpened Attack: 14+6=20 vs Reinforced Defense: 18+2=20, Defender Wins Ties! 3-1=2 Damage to Attacker!)
(Sharpened Attack: 12+6=18 vs Reinforced Defense: 16+2=18, Defender Wins Ties! 3-1=2 Damage to Attacker!)
(Sharpened Attack: 12+6=18 vs Reinforced Defense: 15+2=17, Attacker Wins! 5-1=4 Damage!)
(Sharpened Attack: 11+6=17 vs Reinforced Defense: 10+2=12, Attacker Wins! 5-1=4 Damage!)
 
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Summer 10/Revenge Raid 5
[X] Plan Getting The Spearman Out Of The Way
-[X] 93d6 Attack (93d6 tricks)
-[X] 36d6 Defense (36d6 tricks)
-[X] 0d6 Intercept
-[X] Activate Stoker State 3 (-9 Orthstirr) and Slipstream (-8 Orthstirr), as combat begins.

-[X] Start with a 4d6 Devouring Blaze (-8 Orthstirr, -3 Stoker State Dice) targeted at both of them, then fake a move towards the axeman and use a 45d6+6 (w/Hugareida) Inertia-Arresting Throw w/Puncture added (-15 Orthstirr, +3 Stoker State dice) to trap the spearman's weapon, and then use the opening that provides to make a total of up to three 39d6+6 (w/Hugareida) Sharpenedx11 Lightning-Charged Firebomb Strike attacks w/Puncture (-21 Orthstirr and +3 Stoker State dice each) at the axeman, if Guards are displayed at any point, take a break in our routine to again throw a 4d6 Devouring Blaze (-8 Orthstirr, -3 Stoker State Dice) to remove them before continuing.
-[X] Against single melee attacks use Contested Movement (-3 Orthstirr, +3 Stoker State dice, 10d6+6 on the roll) and counterattack with a Sharpened Lightning-Charged Firebomb Strike (-2 Orthstirr, +3 Stoker State dice), prioritizing those used by the axe-wielder if we receive simultaneous attacks.
-[X] Against ranged attacks or if we need to defend against two attacks at once and can only use Contested Movement on one of them use our 40d6+15 Atgeir Bodyguard to defend against all attacks except fleinns. If dealing with ranged attacks, in response to anything not a fleinn or without Puncture or some other obvious ability to ignore Perfect defenses that gets through Atgeir Bodyguard use Halting Vortex (-2 Orthstirr), and if facing a fleinn or something with Puncture that gets through instead use up to three quick-drawn Shield Sacrifices (-1 Shield) and/or two 40d6+15 Reinforcedx22 Hefty-Halter Chop defenses (-25 Orthstirr each) as seems appropriate to the specific attack.
-[X] Tactics – Throw a Devouring Blaze then immediately move as if to attack the axe guy with a Firebomb Strike, when the spear guy moves to intercept use an IAT instead to stop him and trap his weapon and then continue with our assault on the axe guy while the spearman's ability to intervene remains out of commission until the axe guy falls, using Contested Movement counterattacks against both as needed.
0~0~0

As you eye your opponents and they eye you in turn, the battlefield is far from silent. A bolt of familiar blue lightning darts through the air as it strikes against the other spearhead. All the fires to your right go out at once, just avoiding you by inches. To your left, someone throws a boulder into the fray and sends friend and foe alike scattering away as it plummets back to earth.

Just as the rock strikes the ground, you make your move.

Thrusting your hand forward, a wave of magic-starved flames washes out across the space. Hungry tongues lash to and fro as they crash out over the pair of attackers—to little avail. With no magic to devour, the flames quickly die an ignoble death.

It does, however, cause both men to flinch and cede you the advantage—not that that was ever in any doubt. Darting forwards with Sagaseeker held high, you keep your face schooled as you bring him down on axe man's head.
(Intercept Allowed)
You can't keep the grin off your face as spear guy moves to catch your blow. Sparks fall as spear and better-spear clash above axe man's helmeted head. You pull back as your hand slips free of Sagaseeker's shaft. Waving it about, you take hold of your Standstill shroud and bring it up to bear on the spear locked with Sagaseeker.
(Jostled)
Just as you're about to throw, a scream rips out from your left as Stigmar stumbles into you. Knocked off course, the Standstill throw goes flying high over the heads of battling men.

Slipping free of the clash, your ire spikes as you round on Stigmar, fully intent on giving him a piece of your mind. As you do, though, you lay eyes on splintered shield and pulped wrist—and on the man who did that to your friend.

A giant, red-bearded, mountain of a man lays a hand on his hairy and far-too-naked belly while laughing merrily at the arm-cradling Stigmar. He stands a full head and shoulders over all save the other Giant's-Blooded in the fight. He rests a tree trunk-thick forearm on his broad-bladed, horse-height axe as he seemingly ignores the rest of the battle—the other fighters perfectly content to leave him room to swing his axe in.

Somehow, you know this man to be an enemy champion. Any further thoughts leave your mind as a flicker of movement draws your gaze. Shining iron streaks for your head as axe man makes his move.
(Halla's Hamr: 37+6=43 vs Axe Man's Hamr: 25, Halla Wins! Shield Sacrificed!)
Time slows to a crawl as you hook a foot under Stigmar's shoulder, swing him towards the rear, and drive a fire-assisted blow against axe man's shield, throwing him back and reducing it to splinters in the process—all in one, smooth, continuous motion.

But even though you defended yourself against axe man's attack, you're not fighting just one person. No, you're fighting two at once.
(Reinforce Layers Break! ERA Breaks the Spear!)
As axe man stumbles back, spear guy thrusts forward. Having exposed yourself to strike back at axe man, there's little you can do as a shining spearhead coated in green power strips the last few layers of orthstirr armor from your body.

A burst of flame erupts from your body and, though it can't reach spear guy, it does reach his spear. The shaft shatters from the force of the explosion, the spearhead sent flying back into the river.

(Round Break!)
0~0~0
(Tactics: 4+6+1) 11 Successes

With Stigmar's sudden wounding, you are left more then a little rattled. As such, you struggle to pay attention as closely as you perhaps otherwise should.

The battle as a whole is starting to turn against the men of the Hading, you feel.

Spear guy is down to his sax and is currently looking for some other weapon to use. Axe man is preparing to send a powerful blow your way.

You feel eyes on you as the enemy champion scowls at your interference. You struggle to tell what he's going to do next.

In short, things aren't great.

Endurance: (15/15) | Frenzy: (6/6) (+6 to all Combat Rolls) | Armor Health: (42/42) (+9 to Defense)
Orthstirr: (741/944) | Odr: (108)
( ) Frami: 315 | ( ) Virthing: 315 | ( ) Saemd: 314
Sagaseeker has 49 orthstirr in his reservoir.
Emberguard has 13 orthstirr in its reservoir.
Shapeshifting + Runes are granting you (+2 to Damage, and +5 Attack-Speed)
Your combat pool is 129d6 and you have 33d6 Stoked Dice

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

0~0~0

AN: So, turns out that fighting two people at once is really difficult. Attacking leaves you exposed, which doesn't matter overmuch when you're fighting someone one-on-one. Whole different ballpark when it comes to 2+v1s, though—especially when you lack a shield to cover yourself with.

25-minute moratorium.
 
Summer 10/Revenge Raid 6
[X] Plan Time Stands Still
-[X] 60d6 Attack (60d6 tricks)
-[X] 69d6 Defense (69d6 tricks)
-[X] 0d6 Intercept
-[X] Activate Stoker State 3 (-9 Orthstirr) and Slipstream (-8 Orthstirr), as combat begins if they are not already active.
-[X] Activate Time Stands Still burning Samed (-1 Aspect, +3 Stoked Dice). Use Threadcutter adding Sharpen and Lighting-Charged to all nine 3d6+6 Basic Attacks (-39 Orthstirr, -9 Stoking Dice, +18 Stoking Dice to final attack only) followed up with a 39d6+6 Sharpened Lightning-Charged Stoking Strike w/Puncture adding 6 Odr to damage (-14 Orthstirr, -6 Odr, -36 Stoking Dice including the 18 from Threadcutter, Total Damage 24) on the Champion if he's still alive, and then use one Fast-Stored Orthstirr-Enhancedx10 12d6+6 3Fold Sparkbombs w/Puncture (-39Orthstirr) on the Champion if he lives and the spearman and axe guy if he doesn't (and a third target if they both go down to the first two), and then one Fast-Stored Orthstirr-Enhancedx20 55d6+6 4Fold Kindle Spinner w/Puncture (-38 Orthstirr, +3 Stoked Dice) on the spear and axe guy if they live and assorted other enemies if those two are both dead (aiming to hit and kill as many as possible without hitting our own people). Make sure that it is the last two Kindle Spinner attacks that go off after TSS wears off (Threadcutter, the 3Fold Sparkbomb and the first two Kindle Spinners should be what goes off while time is stopped).

-[X] If anyone is still standing nearby throw a 45d6+6 (w/Hugareida) Sharpenedx10 Lightning-Charged Firebomb Strike attack w/Puncture (-20 Orthstirr and +3 Stoker State dice each) at them
-[X] Against single melee attacks use Contested Movement (-3 Orthstirr, +3 Stoker State dice, 10d6+6 on the roll) and counterattack with a Sharpened Lightning-Charged Firebomb Strike (-2 Orthstirr, +3 Stoker State dice), prioritizing those used by the axe-wielder if we receive simultaneous attacks. If the attack is from the champion add one use of Fight of Our Life on the Hamr roll.
-[X] Against ranged attacks or if we need to defend against two attacks at once and can only use Contested Movement on one of them use our 40d6+15 Atgeir Bodyguard to defend against all attacks except fleinns. If dealing with ranged attacks, in response to anything not a fleinn or without Puncture or some other obvious ability to ignore Perfect defenses that gets through Atgeir Bodyguard use Halting Vortex (-2 Orthstirr), and if facing a fleinn or something with Puncture that gets through instead use up to three quick-drawn Shield Sacrifices (-1 Shield) and/or one 81d6+15 Reinforcedx12 Hefty-Halter Chop defenses (-15 Orthstirr) as seems appropriate to the specific attack.
-[X] Tactics – So, we challenge the Champion and activate Time Stands Still and kill everyone we're fighting (prioritizing Threadcutter on the Champion), and hopefully a fair number of other people as well. The rest is just contingencies.
0~0~0

Power falls from your body in great, heaving waves of crimson might. The flames of your pride wash across your body as you turn to deliver the champion a withering stare—one copied directly from Asveig.

Pointing Sagaseeker at him, your next words are spoken through gritted, grinding teeth. "You hurt my friend, you're going to die."

The champion chuckles and folds his arms before him, "Give it your best shot, girly."

At least, that's what you think he probably would've said, given that he only makes it halfway through 'shot' before you did just as requested.

Time warps around you as the world turns black and gray and inside-out. Your footsteps echo in the stretch of stifling silence as your lungs burn and ache. You've gotten better at using this little trick of yours, but it's still no easy feat to force time to heed your will.

An aura of crimson flames clings to your form as you carefully eye the trio you'd be fighting. After a moment's consideration, you shake your head as a frown spreads across your face. Though it may feel a little cheap to just slay three men like this—the allure of testing yourself against powerful foes is admittedly ever-appealing—right now, you've got a wounded friend to consider.

Placing a palm before the frozen faces of both axe man and spear guy, you banish the little voice telling you of dishonor. As if to punctuate your will, a surge of orthstirr sparks in your hands as sizzling blood explodes from the remains of heads-turned-craters.

Spinning Sagaseeker around—his voice quiet in the frozen space—you quell the churning of your stomach as you eye the champion's expansive gut. Strength coats your weapon in layers of crimson power as lightning crackles across his blade.

You leap into motion as orthstirr wraps around you like a newborn's blanket. Blow after blow flies as if carried by Valkyries. Blood, bone, and so much gore sprays from the flesh-crevices left in the waste of your wake. Nine swings of the atgeir turns the champion's lower body into a pulped facsimile of the human form, but it's the tenth that'll seal his fate.

Drawing your arm back and with it Sagaseeker, your heart hammers in your ears like the thunder of Thor in the sky. Flames erupt from Sagaseeker's surface as your thoughts start to drift and your will starts to slip.

This... This isn't right, what you're doing now. A drengr deals fairly with friend and foe alike. This isn't the work of a drengr.

As you start your swing, you can't help but feel a bit like a failure, like an odreng.

Maybe it's a result of the slipping of your will. Maybe it's a result of that achy, slimy feeling in your gut. Maybe it's a result of something else entirely.

No matter the reason, the flow of time resumes as color returns to your surroundings.

To his credit, the champion's reaction is little more then a flicker of surprise across his eyes as his frami erupts across his body. In a span of time quicker then a heartbeat, his body mends itself as strength wraps around his already-flying fist.

He's faster then you are, far faster. You watch with horror as a yellow-blazing fist closes the gap faster then thought. You're not fast enough to block that, not nearly! Death looms!

And then it doesn't.

A virthing-wrapped Stigmar smiles up at you from under the protective aegis of a shield—Agnar Bjarnesson's shield!

With his rhythm disrupted, there's nothing the champion can do to stop Sagaseeker's flame-fueled march. Your atgeir cleaves straight down into the crown of his head, through neck and chest alike, and springs free of the falling halves of the champion's pelvis.

You meet Stigmar's eyes as you're both drenched head to toe in blood, but a scream of agonized rage robs you of your chance to speak.

"Oh, I am not doing this shit again!" The angered voice of a furious Sten rips across the battlefield, silencing all who dare try to speak over him. You can't see what happens next, but you do hear the squelch of a body landing on a bed of spikes.

You get the sense that the battle just turned to your favor in a rather dramatic fashion.

(Round Over)
0~0~0
(Tactics: 15+6+2) 23 Successes

There's no two ways about it, the battle is rapidly devolving. With the loss of two champions, the raiders are left reeling. If that wasn't bad enough, there's now a hole in the line—put there by yours truly!

Yeah, they're breaking. Those not actively in a fight turn tail and make to leap over the river, to what they hope is survival. Those still fighting will likely disengage as they get the chance, but they're still threats to your allies.

You are currently not under threat by anyone, leaving you free to do as you please.

Endurance: (15/15) | Frenzy: (6/6) (+6 to all Combat Rolls) | Armor Health: (42/42) (+9 to Defense)
Orthstirr: (632/944) | Odr: (97)
(X) Frami: 315 | ( ) Virthing: 315 | ( ) Saemd: 314
Sagaseeker has 49 orthstirr in his reservoir.
Emberguard has 13 orthstirr in its reservoir.
Shapeshifting + Runes are granting you (+2 to Damage, and +5 Attack-Speed)
Your combat pool is 129d6 and you have 15d6 Stoked Dice

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

0~0~0

AN: I am not above bending the rules to have cool things happen ;P

25-minute moratorium, but we'll see if we can do a second update.
 
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Summer 10/Revenge Raid 7
[X] **Plan Chooser of the Slain**
-[X] Now the battle is over and the rout has started, take to the skies using our Ember-Winged Cloak. Sound our Boar-Headed Horn to celebrate our victory, enliven our allies and dishearten our fleeing foes.
-[X] Where there are allies who look like they're on the brink of death, fly down and heal them.
-[X] Pursue the rout using our greatly superior mobility and visibility, swooping down on the fleeing raiders like an eagle, killing men with Kindle-Spinners and Firebomb Strikes as they flounder in the river.
-[X] If any men lay down their weapons and ask for mercy, they can be taken prisoner, but otherwise we shall be as terrible and pitiless as a ravening wolf. We need to kill as many of the enemy as possible to prevent word getting back to the ships and to make this victory count.
0~0~0

Grid Trembler lacked a warrior's heart. Just one look at him would tell any onlooker all they needed to know of his fighting prowess. With narrow shoulders, thin wrists, and a round face prone to over-expression, he looked more out of place on the battlefield then a donkey does in a horse race.

Dressed in thick, ill-fitting cloth and with a helmet that keeps slipping over his eyes, Grid looks more like a boy in his father's armor then a man full grown. Standing near the back of the fighting line, what little metal there was on his body clinks and clanks as he shows off how he earned his kenning.

Blood sprays across his face as Trond Tollaksson takes a sword to the skull and collapses, leaving Grid as the only thing standing between the Hadingmen and them breaking through the line in full. His spearhead shakes and shivers as Trond's killer—a blonde giant in the shape of a man—merely takes a single step forward as shadows swirl around his body.

Grid knew this was a mistake the moment Trond knocked on his door with words of vengeance on his lips. Of course he wanted vengeance for his sister and her family! Of course he wanted to make the Hadingmen bleed for what they did! What man worth the name would ever allow such things to go unavenged?

But despite the bravado, a simple truth remains. Grid Trembler was no warrior; he wasn't even that good a farmer! All he would ever be was a dead weight on his family's neck, dragging them down and holding them back!

At the very least, he could die bravely, with a weapon in hand and his enemy's blood on his iron. But as the shadow-cloaked swordsgiant stomps ever-closer, Grid knew he'll fail in that too.

Dropping his shield and taking his spear in both hands, Grid finds one last morsel of courage in his heart. If he is to die here today, then he'll die on his feet with a spear in his hand! A real man's death!

Screaming from the top of his lungs, Grid churns up the ground beneath his feet as he throws himself into a sprint. The spear, miraculously, stays level as he charges—for once in his life his hands stay still and steady. Ironic, really, that it's only as he meets his death that they stay tremble-free.

A sound like death rolls across the battlefield, putting a stop to all other noises. Once-clear skies fill with an all-consuming fog as swirling mists grow from the ground. Thoughts of Heimdall and Ragnarok filter across Grid's mind as he stumbles to a stop and the horn calls again. Marrow chills in his bones as blood freezes in his veins, his spear slipping free from suddenly numb fingers.

He falls to his knees as his lower lip quivers. The giant nods an apology as he lifts his sword for one final blow.

For once in his life, his ill-fitting helmet's tendency to slip down over his eyes is a boon.

0~0~0

Like a war goddess, you avenge yourself upon those who would dare attack your homes. The Aggilsfjordmen scatter so much chaff before the scythes of the wrath-filled Hadingmen. Men die in droves as they try to leap the river, only to be snatched from the air by surging waters. The Hading herself takes to the field as she dooms dozens of men to a watery grave, dragged to their demise by their ankles!

Most of the surviving men throw down their weapons and lift their hands in surrender, but only thirteen of the sixty-five were taken alive. The rest either were killed in the fighting, the rout, or simply refused to give. Their bravery is admirable, even if the outcome was certain. To be brave in the face of certain death is the make of a true man.

Those who lived found themselves clapped in iron chains and marched off towards Asvir, towards a life of thralldom. Despite the thoughts and feelings you have on concept as a whole, you can't seem to bring yourself to care all that much about the freedom of the men who came to burn and ravage your home. While you're sure that Blackhand would have some comments, he's not here to speak them.

In the aftermath of the battle, your friends and allies set to binding their wounds and caring for the dead and dying. Of the roughly ninety men that accompanied Dorri, sixty-three came out with life and limb mostly intact. Eighteen were slain in the battle while ten men were rendered noncombatants thanks to the severity of their wounds.

Fortunately, those ten wounded and eighteen dead have a Halla on standby.

"You're a life-saver, Halla Life-Bringer!" a raspy-voiced man you only vaguely know—a newcomer by the name of Vragi Ditch-Digger—gasps out his praise as he matches his wrist to yours. "Should you ever need it, my sword is yours!"

Similar promises echo in your wake as you sweep across the fighting grounds. Each oath sworn adds itself to your soul as the bonds of fate bind you together. Of the eighteen dead, eleven were able to be brought back.

On this day, seven men met their fates. Their names shall be remembered upon a runestone, alongside all others who fall this bloody day.

Ove Liver-Feaster, who took a spear to the stomach while trying to stop a rock from disrupting the lines.

Oscar Sharphone, who slew two men before meeting his end at a Champion's axe.

Njord Torbjornsson, who fell protecting his wounded son from Aggilsfjorder spears.

Torbjorn Njordsson, who died avenging his fallen father.

Rollo Suneson, who was killed in a skirmisher duel.

Somerled Lungingwalk, who was killed by an errant spear toss during the pursuit.

Kelldorr Crowfoot, who was slain in a duel by Lars Forkbeard.

You shake your head as you come to Kelldorr's corpse. It was he who had the idea to trap the raiders with the river. It was his home that was under attack. It was death that rewarded him for his hard work and it was Lars Forkbeard who delivered it.

Lars fucking Forkbeard, back from the dead to torment you once again.

At the very least, he's probably not going to be troubling the Hading again, given what Sten did to him. Nobody's quite sure what, exactly, he did—beyond a general consensus of 'freaky Finnish magic'—but all who witnessed keep beyond arm's reach of Sten. Apparently, he killed more then a dozen people in the fight, so whatever he did had to have been truly spine-chilling to cause such a reaction—a reaction that's spared you of having to answer any questions of your own feats!

You suppose you'll have to ask him of it later.

Regardless, after binding wounds and tending to the fallen, a runner from Logi's force appeared bearing a message. As he speaks it aloud, a happy cheer springs free from smiling faces.

Logi crushed not only the group he was after, but also managed to catch the band Framarr was scouting with their pants down in a very literal fashion. Apparently, the place they'd hit for food had slipped some manner of bowel-affecting poison into their food. The raiders, unable to control themselves, helped themselves to the feast left out for them—to disastrous results.

There's not been any word, good or bad, from Folkmarr's team. A gnawing pit starts to form in your gut as you recall the fact that Eric went with Folkmarr.

Dorri then invites the men of standing to have their say in what they should do next. Being one of those people of standing, you may speak your piece should you so desire.
[ ] Proceed with the plan as is, group up with Logi and the others and hunt after the last band of foraging raiders
[ ] Alter the plan slightly, group up with Logi and the others and then take on the ship guards
[ ] Diverge from the plan, send a group to find Folkmarr while pulling back to Asvir to consolidate
[ ] Write in

0~0~0

AN: This was a bit of a weird one to write, I won't lie.

Regardless, no moratorium and probably a short vote.
 
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