As expected, the stream leads up into the hills. What isn't so expected is that it just... ends. One moment it's there, flowing like water should and full of fish, the next it isn't. An inch more inland and there's nothing but a dry riverbed. An inch towards the ocean, water springs from nothing.
'A remnant of a past battle between cultivators, an unfixed hole in reality,' Blackhand notes as you swallow the lump in your throat. An odd quiet falls across the group as you sidestep the stream and keep following the trail of pawprints in the dirt. None of you are all too pleased to be near to a fissure in the fabric, for such things are unlucky in the extreme. Alas, the bear took this path so too must you.
Fortunately, the tear is only centered around the stream-bed, so you don't have to face any of the oddities that so often accost those who venture near. Nobody likes to speak of such breaks in reality, for those who engage with them are said to meet the Norns' ire.
As luck would have it, it seems that the bear was as wary of the stream as you are and so its path takes a sharp turn to the right and up the low, sloping incline of a hill. Cresting the hill, you lay eyes on a cave banked on either side by thick-trunked trees. Fire scorches the ground before the entrance, proof enough of the occupant within.
However, it seems the bear is not at home, which means that you could go in free of any threats. Perhaps you might find something of value within? A bear such as that is sure to have many relics and treasures, all trophies of past kills.
The cave is a simple affair, the work of something of a lower intelligence. The walls are natural and packed with dirt and stone, the kind of surface only the motions of the earth could form. Anything from the hand of man would be of a finer, more refined quality.
Dark it may be, but a fire cupped in the palm of your hand provides more than enough light as you descend beneath the surface of the earth. The moment the fire sparks, though, you're treated to a flank of coal-black fur.
The fur rises and falls in a steady rhythm as you gaze upon the sleeping form of your target. It seems to be completely unaware of your presence, deep in slumber as it is, and, as such, is completely vulnerable to anything you might wish to do.
[ ] Kill it now, while it's unable to defend itself
[ ] Wake it up to fight
The bear yawns as you tap it on the shoulder. As it rises to its claw-tipped feet, licks of flame ignite on the ends of its hair as it turns its maw your way. Big bear eyes widen as it spots a quartet of heavily armed and armored warriors standing in its home.
Its roar would have ruptured the eardrums of lesser men, but you're made of sterner stuff than that.
With you being closest, it's going to go after you first. If you leap away or otherwise dodge, it'll target the apparent weakest link: Alvis. At first glance, it seems capable of wielding fire in a variety of different ways including, but not limited to, hardened fire reminiscent of Stoker State. With the way its fire grows and shrinks as it breathes, it may very well be somewhat similar...
Physically, it's far stronger than you are. With eight limbs, it'll be able to strike out many times at once, each time dealing potentially significant damage. Its fur is thick and its skin is tough and leathery, it won't be easy to carve through such strength.
Endurance: (18/18) | Frenzy: (8/8) (+8 to all Combat Rolls) | Armor: (8/8) (+1 to Defense Rolls)
Orthstirr: (63/63) | Odr: (39)
( ) Frami: 20 | ( ) Virthing: 20 | ( ) Saemd: 19
Your Combat Dice Pool for Basic Moves is 8d6
What do you do?
[ ] Plan Name
-[ ] Goal: Write in
-[ ] Tricks: Write in up to Capacity (12)
-[ ] Orthstirr: Write in
0~0~0
AN: Alright, it's time to test out this system proper.
[X] Plan Draw Attention, Disable Limbs, Test Sagaplate
-[X] Pre-Combat: Use empty Alloy Slot for Extinguish, put on Sagaplate and offer 1/3 our Orthstirr Gain to Odin
-[X] Goal: The basic idea here is to engage the owlbear in melee combat to keep it off Alvis, hopefully doing solid damage with Threadcutter (and the follow-up Stoking Strike), trapping it with Inertia-Arresting Throw, or disabling limbs with Shatter-Wrist and Tendon Cut. Using lots of defensive Tricks to help with that, plus shields as necessary.
-[X] Shapeshifts: Dense Muscles x8, Supported Grip x1,
-[X] Utility Tricks: Slipstream,
-[X] Defensive Tricks: Reinforce Shield, Slowing Slog, Stutter-Step, Semi-Halting Vortex (put up to defend against multiple attacks at once), Sword Guard (Same), Time Stands Still (only in an emergency, such as to defend against another Finale, though we would then attack the foe while they are frozen),
-[X] Offensive Tricks: Shatter-Wrist Trick, Tendon-Cut Trick, Inertia-Arresting Throw, Threadcutter, Stoking Strike,
-[X] Orthstirr: 30 Levels
-[X] Stoked Pool: Make sure to keep the total below 63 by using it on Stoker State Tricks as needed.
-[X] Other: Activating Sharpen, Stoker State Level 4 (-1 Orthstirr), Lightning-Charged on Sagaseeker (-1 Orthstirr), and Puncture on Tricks (-1 Orthstirr), and use quick-drawn Shields as needed for defense (used preferentially over Stutter Step). Spend **2 Odr** on IAT if needed and up to **10 Odr** on the Stoking Strike at the end of Threadcutter if it seems like previous attacks have not harmed it.
0~0~0
The bear reacts as any reasonable bear would when encountering a quartet of unknowns in its den.
A growl ripples free of its rumbling throat as its muscles tense and flex. Great waves of readied strength wash across its body as spittle falls like rain. Shoulders set in a heavyweight's battle stance, its wandering eyes fixate on the weakest foe: Alvis. (Attack: 29+62=91 vs Defense: 24+20=44, Attacker Wins! 9x2+30-40(Armor)-8(DR)=0 Damage
Its head snaps back as tooth and blood goes flying, though no damage makes it through the bear's thick hide. Sagaseeker leaves a trail of lightning in his wake as you set your jaw and place yourself between the bear and Alvis. If it wants to make a meal of the Skald, it'll have to go through you.
Despite the hatred in its eyes, you can't help but let a smile spread across your face. It's been too long since you fought anything! A near full year of nothing but bloodless sparring, what a miserable existence!
Energy radiates from your ironclad body as you flex, the helmet doing little to conceal the widening grin on your face. Not only do you finally get to kill something, but you also get a chance to test out this fancy new armor of yours! Already, the strength of Odin floods your body as you move quicker, respond sooner, and process the chaos of battle with far greater ease than ever before.
The bear turns towards you, a single tooth missing from its once-dreadful maw. Eyes filled with blazing hate, it lunges forwards with jaw hinging open and a claw-filled paw raised high for a swipe. Just as the beast closes the gap, Stigmar's shield arm manifests before you in a manner most protective. (Attack 1: 34+35=69 vs Defense: 24+26=50, Attacker Wins! 20-26(Armor)=0 Damage!) (Attack 2: 32+35=67 vs Defense: 30+26=56, Attacker Wins! 20-25(Armor)=0 Damage!)
Shards fly as, by tooth and claw, the bear splits hide and splinters wood. An irritated roar rumbles free of its throat as Stigmar's shield stands strong and his stance remains unwavering. His unerring sword lifts high over his head as he steps forward, bringing the sword down with the motion. (Attack: 26+20=46 vs Defense: 29+25=54, Defender Wins!)
Though his blazing orthstirr fills his limbs, his sword fails to part the hide of the wicked beast. Backing away a trio of half-steps, the bear prepares to redouble its efforts when a flicker of movement from the corner of the eye catches the gaze. (Attack: 70+41=111 vs Defense: 33+20=53, Attacker Wins! Pin Reduces Attacks by 1!)
Abjorn blurs into motion as a trick propels him into action. Empty hands spread wide, he lunges forward with reckless abandon as his questing fingers grope for holds. Orthstirr flooding his limbs with trick-strength, his fingers find homes in the fur of the beast as his feet drive into the ground hard enough to leave imprints in his wake.
Shifting on the spot, he puts all his weight as he slams the paw in his grasp against the ground. Pulled off balance by your husband, the bear can only watch as you grin and kick off the ground. Sagaseeker held high and wreathed in lighting, a laugh slips free of your lips as you fly through the air. (Attack: 24+62=86 vs Defense: 28+25=63, Attacker Wins! 9x2+30-39(Armor)-8(DR)=1 Damage!)
This time, as Sagaseeker lashes out and parts flesh from bone, you manage to deal true damage to your foe. The bear reels back in pain, only for Abjorn's grip to tighten and arrest its motion on the spot. Growling, the bear's maw swings open as it darts for Abjorn's head—its eyes tracking your movements all the while. (Attack: 43+35=78 vs Defense: 23+33=56, Attacker Wins! 20-3(DR)-23(Armor)=0 Damage, but breaks the pin!)
The bear's teeth crunch down around your shadow-wrapped husband as Shadeclaw cries out in pain—pain that came all too soon. The bear twists on the spot, pulling Abjorn free and throwing him into the rocky ceiling.
Abjorn slams into the roof with gritted teeth and heavy irritation in his gaze. Peeling free, he hits the ground already staggering to his feet. You've seen him weather hits far stronger than that and come out the other side like nothing happened, so what's the matter with him?! (Attack: 28+20=48 vs Defense: 13+25=38, Attacker Wins! 1+3-38(Armor)-8(DR)=0 Damage!)
Just as the bear moves to finish Abjorn off, Stigmar steps forward once more with sword in hand. A single swipe sends blood and fur flying and manages to pull the bear's attention away, but does little more than that.
It is, however, more than enough time for Abjorn to draw Avow, take hold with both hands, and ready an attack—all while you prepare a trick of your own. (Attack: 38+41=79 vs Defense: 22+25=47, Attacker Wins! Steel Nullification! 2+5x2=12 Damage!)
A sickly feeling forms in your gut as you lay eyes on the Steel surface of Avow. Ever since you learned the true price of Steel, you can't help but feel sick to your stomach whenever Avow makes itself known. It's not enough to throw you off your game—not nearly so!—but it does force you to grit your teeth and furrow your brows.
However, despite your grievances toward Steel, you can't deny its efficacy. With one swipe of Steel, Abjorn achieves more in a single instant than you, Stigmar, and himself combined did in countless.
One of the bear's forepaws spirals to the ground in a shower of red blood, its flames reaching a fever pitch as it roars in pain. Paw pressed to the stump of an arm, it opens its mouth to reveal the hardened contents within. Fear grips your heart as your eyes widen in recognition of the Flame-Tending Blade.
A sword of hardened flames sprouts from the bear's mouth as the tip carves through rock and stone. Your heart hammers in your chest as you realize the target, the one responsible for all its pain: Abjorn.
(Round Break)
0~0~0
Tactics: 21 Successes
There's something oddly familiar with the bear, something that you can't quite put your finger one. You, however, are not the only person with that feeling in your head.
'It.. It can't be,' Blackhand mutters as you prepare to fight once more, 'If you can, don't kill it. I think I might remember something if you leave it alive.'
With the beast aiming a Finale at your husband, you're not sure that that's in the cards, but you'll try your best.
This isn't a very complex situation to process, so it takes you all of a single heartbeat to make sense of everything before you.
Stigmar, torn between guarding you and protecting your mental state, is going to try and tank the blow for Abjorn while Abjorn readies a Finale of his own. You're not entirely sure what that means, given your knowledge of his Finales, but it's what your intuition is telling you.
The bear is going to try its level best to take one of you down with it. Preferably Abjorn, but it's not too picky as it believes that it is going to die here.
Endurance: (18/18) | Frenzy: (8/8) (+8 to all Combat Rolls) | Armor: (27/27) (+3 to Defense Rolls)
Orthstirr: (33/63) | Odr: (39)
( ) Frami: 20 | ( ) Virthing: 20 | ( ) Saemd: 19
Your Combat Dice Pool for Basic Moves is 8d6
What do you do?
[ ] Plan Name
-[ ] Goal: Write in
-[ ] Tricks: Write in up to Capacity (12)
-[ ] Orthstirr: Write in
0~0~0
AN: Happy 1 Year Anniversary, everyone!
It's been a wild ride and I can't thank you all enough for joining me on it!
[X] Plan Disrupting That Flame-Tending Blade
-[X] Goal: The goal here is to grasp Sagaseeker in two hands and use it to disable the limb it's using to charge the blade, stun the Owlbear, restrain it via Inertia-Arresting Throw with its attack pointing away from all of us, force its aim off with Forceful Lever, and so on, whatever looks most appropriate as a way to short-circuit the FTB before it goes off (with Knee-Groin Trick as a last resort among those). If none of that is working, we'll use IAT with a Rewrite to try and shut down its gathering energy (IAT wouldn't normally stop that, but should with a Rewrite), and/or use Threadcutter and Stoking Strike to try and kill it, but those are a last resort, especially the latter (we do want it alive if possible). If all efforts fail, use Time Stands Still to grab Abjorn and Stigmar and get them out of the way of the FTB.
-[X] Shapeshifts: Dense Muscles x8, Quick-Recovering Muscles x1,
-[X] Utility Tricks: Slipstream, Veto Motion,
-[X] Defensive Tricks: Reinforce Shield, Slowing Slog, Stutter-Step (only defensively in an emergency), Time Stands Still (only in an emergency defensively, such as to defend against FTB and drag Abjorn and Stigmar out of the way if nothing else works),
-[X] Offensive Tricks: Stunner-Slam, Shatter-Wrist Trick, Tendon-Cut Trick, Threadcutter, Stoking Strike, Palm-Crush, Knee-Groin Trick, Inertia-Arresting Throw, Forceful Lever,
-[X] Orthstirr: 30 Levels
-[X] Stoked Pool: Make sure to keep the total below 63 by using it on Stoker State Tricks as needed.
-[X] Other: Activating Sharpen, Stoker State Level 4 (-1 Orthstirr), Lightning-Charged on Sagaseeker (-1 Orthstirr), and Puncture on Tricks (-1 Orthstirr). Spend **3 Odr** on IAT if needed.
0~0~0
The bear's Flame-Tending Blade carves a groove in the rocky-soil ceiling as you stare in shock and horror. It should not be able to do that, yet it does regardless of your thoughts on the matter. Discarding your opinions like so much soiled laundry, the bear turns its gaze on your beloved husband.
Eyes narrowing to lines on your head, Sagaseeker purrs in your grasp as you decide to do something about it. Halla1 (Trick Attack: 16+38+7=61 vs Defense: 42+25=67, Defender Wins!)
You're not alone when you burst into motion. Abjorn, in a showing of surprising speed and initiative, rockets forward with sword held high like a meteor crashing down from the sky. Brown eyes meet steel as a nod and a grin pass between you. Abjorn1 (Attack: 23+47=70 vs Defense: 46+25=71, Defender Wins!)
Waves of orthstirr wash across your bodies as shining crimson mixes with rust red. Power burns like the fires of Muspelheim as you swing as one—Avow at one ankle while Sagaseeker aims at the other.
But even as you swing with all your might, the bear is no foe to be taken lightly—for, despite its size, it is far from slow. Its feet leave the ground as it hops into the air, your weapons shaving sparks from the earth as rocks split and iron bemoans the lack of blood and bone.
Four owl-feathered wings spread out as far as they can in a display of might and power. Fire clings to fur as wind obeys the flapping of wings. Like a spring monsoon, the wind rushes out in obedience of its master as it crashes against your coast. Bear1 (Bear's Wind Blast: 40 vs Halla: 39, Abjorn: 40, Stigmar: 24)
Gritting your teeth, your feet plant firm against the ground as the wind assaults your fortress. Sagaseeker finds a new home in the rock as your hair whips your face, leaving blood trickles in its wake. Muscles flexing across your body, you resist the wind as best you can—but it isn't enough.
As Stigmar is blown completely off his feet head-first into a bed of rocks and Abjorn suffers a fate like your own, you're forced to watch as the bear turns, flaps its wings again, and soars towards both the entrance to the cave... And Alvis.
Alvis, who had been too busy memorizing the fight to aid your efforts, stiffens as the bear hurtles his way. Eyes snap wide as bared claws shine in the sunlight streaming in through the cave's mouth. Fingers scramble for familiar sword and shield, but he's not nearly ready to defend against such a ferocious beast.
The ground shakes as Abjorn takes a step. Veins stand out against his bulging muscles as he forces himself to take another step. The wind tears strips away from his skin as blood trails off like a dragon's tail, but nothing could stop him now. Not the bear and certainly not the wind.
Boot bending as he finds a firm section of earth, he presses forward at full-speed. Like a stone slung from a sling, he blurs through the air and crosses the distance in the blink of an eye. Sword of Steel held high overhead, his teeth grind together as he swings with all his might. Abjorn2 (Attack: 39+47=86 vs Defense: 30+35=65, Attacker Wins! Steel Nullification! 2+6x2+25-36(Armor)=3 Damage! -9 Armor!)
Blood showers the ground as a second bear claw joins the first. Steel shines slick with blood as Abjorn skids to a halt, the wind pressure dying alongside the bear's pained cry. Alvis watches with eyes wide open as the bear reels back and flees the cavern.
Taking to the skies proper, the bear's quartet of wings bare it aloft in the sky. Flames pour from its maw as it turns on labored wings. Anger, pain, and aghast astonishment mix into one as the bear prepares to unleash its Finale.
This is it, the final chance you're going to get to stop the bear. Gritting your teeth so hard you half-fear they'd break from the force, you leap into motion on your own wings of flame. Abjorn follows suit as he takes to the skies at your side.
Passing Stigmar's collapsed form on the way from the cave, you breathe a sigh of relief as he staggers to his bloodied feet. Hand clutching at the side of his blood-slick head, he turns with outstretched arm just as you thunder past him. His lips move but his words are lost to the ringing in your ears.
You'll have to ask him what he said once all is said and done. For now, though, the bear demands the whole of your attention, for a foe as strong as this deserves nothing less than your best. Just as it draws back its head to make its swing, a cunning idea slips into your mind.
Power flows across your arm as you thrust it forward. Stilling cloth flies free as you pour all your Standstill might into the throw. The cloth spreads out in a spiral like the outstretched wings of a wondrous bird of prey. It hurtles through the air like a ghost, as clear to the eye as the breeze. Halla3 (Trick Attack: 19+7(Hugareida)+8(Frenzy)+12(Hugr)=46 vs Defense: 37+20=57, Defender Wins!)
It was a perfectly aimed and executed throw, the stuff of legends made reality. By all rights, such a throw as that should have seen the bear wrapped up like a Yuletide gift. Yet, as if by some sixth sense, the bear's ear twitches and its wings flap, sending it twisting away from your trick.
The bear starts to swing as horror grips your heart with both hands as Abjorn's own Finale is still not ready.
Is this it? Is this the end? You've come so far, fought so hard, done such incredible things, all for some nameless bear to bring it all crashing down? Stigmar Reroll (Trick Attack: 30+7+8+12=57 vs Defense: 36+20=56, Attacker Wins!)
As the bear's hard-flame sword begins to move, the impossible happens. A strange sense of coolness washes across your outstretched arm—still extended from the failed throw—as tendrils of gray wriggle free of your armor.
It takes you more time than you'd like to admit to recognize the gray substance for what it is: clay. The clay snaps out like an arrow from a thousand-pound bow. They blur into motion, closing the gap like that, and wrap around the bear's remaining limbs all in one fell swoop.
The bear's eyes widen in shock as cold clay presses around its body, putting a pause on the sword-swing as it thrashes and writhes. Struggle all you want, o' loathsome beast, for you shall never break the clay's grip!
Clay shifting to the side, it drags the bear once more into the path of your once-failed Inertia-Arresting Throw. Standstilling cloth wraps around limbs as the fires of hope burn away the fear and horror gripping your heart.
Eyes darting to the cavern entrance, you're just in time to watch as Stigmar staggers into the light. Face pale and breathing quick, he offers you a nod and a grin as he collapses against the earthy entryway. Blood leaks from between the fingers pressed against the wound on his head, but something tells you that he'll be okay—which is more than what you can say for the bear, because Abjorn's Finale is ready.
The skies darken as shadows drench the world in inky black. Golden-furred bearskin falls around Abjorn's shoulders as he seems to shift and change. Shadows play across his face as his hands stretch out like a storm on the horizon.
Reality stutters as his form flickers. As his hands ball into tightly-held fists, ten uniform indentations press into the surface of the fire-furred bear's body. Bending backwards at the knees, Abjorn rips the bear free of your Standstill hold as he turns the final page of this story.
The freed bear tries to swing as Abjorn drags it back with an untouchable grapple, but it's no use. Though the sword thunders across the black-swamped sky and though its heat singes the grass so far below, Abjorn merely regards it with a derisive curl of the upper lip.
After all, this might as well be an ice bath compared to the fires of his wife.
Sending his arms back over his head, the giant of a man hurls the bear with all his might. Rust-red orthstirr mixes with inky black shadows as Shadeclaw adds all her own strength to the throw, sending the bear spiraling neck-first into the ground.
An explosion of dirt, dust, and snowy remnants creates a mile-high spectacle in the sky. When it all clears, you're treated to the sight of a defeated foe. (Hamingja: 26 Successes)
But despite all the damage done to it, the bear isn't quite dead. As luck would have it, the bear is merely unconscious as it lays face-down in the crater, its limbs splayed out all around it in a vaguely familiar pose—though you can't quite put a finger on it.
You've won.
(+2 Orthstirr)
(Shared Feat: Fire-Bear Suplex (+2/9ths Orthstirr a Year))
+Fire-Bear Blood
What do you do with the bear?
[ ] Write in
[X] Plan We Caught a Pokémon, Om Nom Nom
-[X] Reattach the bear's missing arm by cutting a thin layer of the Steel-afflicted tissue away on both sides, then gluing it together with Healing Clay if needed.
-[X] Stick it into our Soulscape until we can work out what to do with it, letting Blackhand keep an eye on it.
-[X] If it causes problems, then take it out again.
-[X] Imbibe the bear's blood using the proper method with Odr, gaining the effects of that process.
[X] Plan Yule And Owlbears
-[X] [Focus] Yule Party
--[X] Specifically, invite a bunch of people to our Yule party with a specific focus on any women any of our huscarls say they'd like to invite (they're all single, giving them an opportunity to mingle is good)
--[X] All direct neighbors would also be invited, including Buri's family
--[X] Very publicly give our retainers the things we've made for them (weapons, armor, and arm-rings)
--[X] Give out Grand Forged Iron farming tools to those families in the valley most in need of good tools, picking members of the family other than the head if appropriate
---[X] Including one set Bo Burisson, former member of our crew
-[X] Talk To Buri
--[X] The idea here is to get somewhere private and recruit him to the cause of bringing down Dorri.
--[X] Taking all reasonable, and possibly some unreasonable, precautions to prevent being overheard.
-[X] Yule Divination
--[X] Take all appropriate privacy precautions, especially about vermin like ants
--[X] Ask who knows about Dorri's deal with Drysalt (using the same list of important people in the Valley for answers)
--[X] Ask who knows the truth about what happened to the Witch (again, same list)
--[X] Ask id defeating and slaying Dorri would escalate things with Drysalt in a way that speeds up the time-table on his plans? (Drawing lots for Yes, No, Likely, Unlikely, and Uncertain)
-[X] [Extended] Hunt the Owl-Fire-Bear-Thing
--[X] Taking at least Abjorn, Stigmar, and Alvis with us...possibly others depending on the situation
-[X] (Training) Hamr (511 XP to rank up)
--[X] Train Sword Stepping 9xp
--[X] Train Harvesting Sense 6xp (3xp)
--[X] Train Fire Starter 6xp (3xp)
--[X] Train Brazier Bomb 6xp (3xp)
--[X] Train Ember Stoke 6xp (3xp)
-[X] (Training) Hugr (255 XP to rank up)
--[X] Train Ignition 60xp (15xp)
--[X] Train Standstill 24xp (12xp)
--[X] Train Size Up 6xp (3xp)
--[X] Train Dancing Sparks 8xp (2xp)
-[X] (Training) Fylgja (512 XP to rank up)
--[X] Train Owl-Eye Pulse 6xp
-[X] (Work Options)
--[X] Craft 9 Grand sets of Forged Iron farming tools as presents for those most in need in the Valley, customized to what we know of their needs (9 Work)
--[X] Plant hashish in our soulscape, spending **3 Odr** for a crop (and see how much that gets us and what effects it has)
-[X] (Incidentals)
--[X] Before gaining Odr this turn infuse **128 Odr** into Hamr, afterwards infuse **6 Odr** into Labor, **4 Odr** into combat, **2 Odr** each into Smithing and Scouting, and **3 Odr** each into Housecraft and Travel.
--[X] Adding Taafl Board Capacity Gains to: Asgeirr, Eyvor,
--[X] Receiving Metal from Dwarves: 24 oz Forged Iron, 6 oz Storm Iron,
-[X] (Shapeshifting Slots)
--[X] Assign new slot to Reduced Sleep
[X] More Clashing, Faster
-[X] +5 Initiative
-[X] +4 Stamina
0~0~0
Ignition 7-9 (Forgefire 6-7, Emberwind 4-5, and Firestorm 5-7)
Standstill 6-7
Harvesting Sense (Rough-Refined)
Fire Starter (Rough-Refined)
Brazier Bomb (Rough-Refined)
Ember Stoke (Rough-Refined)
Dancing Sparks (Rough-Refined)
Owl Eye Pulse (Rough-Refined)
Size Up (Rough-Refined)
Hashish
Planting hashish seeds in your soulscape allows you to grow and harvest them. For every odr spent, it grows three bars worth of plant. A good deal, all around.
As for the effects, it seems to have a sort of calming effect, which improves your magic by a tier.
0~0~0 Yule Gift Giving
The year, by the reckoning of the followers of Christ, is 8981 AD and you, Halla Sunshine, have just turned twenty-three.
'Nineteen years till 9000 AD,' Blackhand muses as you cast your gaze about the Yule party raging on around you. 'You'll be fifty-two.'
"Forty-two, actually," you mutter under your breath as you greet some of the new arrivals with a broad wave and a warm smile. That's a warm smile in a very literal meaning, given the way the heat burns beneath your skin. From how it writhes and boils, you can only imagine the flames that'd burst free if you were to peel away the flesh. Of course, if you were to do that, it would merely reveal that you were made of meat and bone like any other person. After all, your body is only fire when you will it so.
Regardless, there's more than a few unfamiliar faces at the Yule party today, which makes sense given the sheer number of new families moving into the Valley. From around two or three-hundred Hadingsmen the year previous to a whole five-hundred, the recent success against the raid having drawn the attention of more than a few hopeful families. Most live on the coast, which is getting rather congested with all the new farms, but even you have some new neighbors—who are here now!
'Fifty, forty, same thing,' Blackhand grunts as you step across the party, the largest group of new arrivals now centered square in your sights, 'Math is a scam.'
"And what if a merchant tries to cheat you? How would you tell?"
'Easy answer. Violence.'
You have to hide the snort as the group takes note of your presence—you wouldn't want to offend them, after all—but it does give you an opportunity to look them over as you compose yourself.
There's about fourteen people in total, four men, seven women, and three children of various ages, though none older than ten. Given their near-uniform square jaws—save for one of the women, presumably a wife—you'd reckon that you're looking at an extended family in search of a better life.
Stepping right up with a broad smile plastered onto your face, your hand hovers as you give them your best greeting, "Hello! My name's Halla Sunshine and welcome to the party. I tend not to get out much," you offer a laugh as you scratch at your cheek, "so I'm sorry for not meeting you sooner."
"No harm, no foul, Halla Sunshine," the tallest man of the lot steps forward to greet you with a firm shake of the hand and a respectful nod of the head. His large hands are strong and heavily calloused, well-suited to hard labor. He'll be fine in the Hading, you reckon, though the same can't be said for all the new arrivals—some of whom look rather reedy and limp about the wrists, "I'm Dyggvi Dursson and these are my siblings," he nods to the other square-jawed Durssons and -dottirs in attendence as he identifies them all by name. A long list of names all beginning in 'D' flee his lips as he moves down the line one by one until he arrives at the sole non-square-jawed among them, "and this is my wife, Iliana Letrisdottir, as well as my sons."
Iliana eyes you warily as her husband waves her way, "Halla Sunshine, is it? I've heard a lot about you."
"Good things, I hope," you try a smile, though it doesn't reach your eyes. There's been something of a resurgence of foul rumors as of late. The source isn't known to you, though the contents are. Apparently, some of the new arrivals have been urging Dorri to give them rights to your land, as, supposedly, one of them had won a wager of battle against someone claiming to own the lands of Steinarr.
Dyggvi's eyes twitch as Iliana stares so hard a cold bead of sweat leaves a wet trail as it slides down the back of your neck. His smile strains as his teeth grit, "Come now, Iliana, it's not like you to put stock in rumors."
Your eyes narrow, darting between man and wife in quick succession, "What rumors?" While you know most of the rumors regarding your person, it never hurts to make certain of suspicions.
They flinch in unison as a cloud crosses over the sun, "T-that you're a bloodthirsty maniac."
A beat passes as you grumble, "I'm not a maniac! I had valid reason for every man I've kill!"
"How..." Dyggvi stares as his lips thin, fingers twitching as he seems to regret the peacebonds on his sax, "How many have you killed?"
You blink as silence looms like the hunter after cornered prey, "I, uh, I've kinda lost count."
'I think it's in the fifties. Fifty-two, perhaps.'
...Fifty-two, huh?
'Yes.'
The same age as he thought you'd be, huh?
'...Yes.'
Yeah, you don't believe that for one second.
'Eh, worth a shot.'
Iliana and Dyggvi exchange a quick glance as Dyggvi takes a half-step back. You can't imagine you're going to have much trouble from them, especially if the way some of the womenfolk are eyeing your retainers is anything to go by. Unless, of course, something goes wrong as it so often does—courting is known as the most dangerous thing a young man can do for a reason, after all.
Begging your leave from the Durssons—who happily give it—you turn your attention to the affairs of your men as they try their damnedest to earn the affections of the many young maidens in what might be the most prime time for marriages the Hading has seen in decades. With all the new arrivals fresh off the boat, they're all eager to put down roots and make alliances as quick as possible. Though you can't imagine any of your neighbors would do such a thing as kill them on the spot—save, perhaps, Hasvir—it's still not a bad idea to make friends and family of the people you're to live next to for the foreseeable future.
Regardless, it seems that your bachelor retainers have, by and large, had good fortune in their search for wives.
Most of the women clinging to your men's every word blur into a single figure in your mind's eye. As much as you may wish it weren't, it's undeniable that Norsewomen tend to fall into a sort of archetype. The same goes for Norsemen, for brash attitudes and boisterous laughter is an all too common occurrence among them.
Of course, that doesn't mean that all your retainers found themselves doe-eyed, soft-faced sweethearts—far from it, in fact! Though you can't see Trausti, Tryggr, Vagn, or Eysteinn working out with their partners of the evening, the same can't be said for Alvis, Hakon, Magni, or even Ingolf, who somehow managed to attract the attention of a woman most formidable. Other potentially successful pairings include the likes of Stigmar, Kare, and Trygve, though none are truly notable in of itself.
Starting with the most notable, somehow, against all the odds, a young woman of clear Giant's Blood—by the name of Fenja Oakenstrength—found herself in the company of none other than Ingolf of all people. The poor boy shivers and shakes as Fenja sits with her arm around his shoulders. Fortunately for what little standing Ingolf has in the Valley, Kare took all the attention upon himself as he very verbally let down a woman of both beauty and good stock.
Next in line is none other than Alvis, who seems to have caught the eye of a sly woman by the name of Gylla Soursong. A woman of sass and succor in equal measure, her fair voice carries far as she sings songs both warm and cold. Though far from a Skald in truth, she still remains a formidable poet if the way she verbally spars with Alvis and anyone who strays too close is anything to go off of. Not the person to make an enemy of, that much is certain.
Last you saw of Hakon Thunderclap, the young man was being dragged off into the treeline by a Dursdottir named Dylla Shocks. You suspect that there will be a new alliance in the near future, if only to save face for all those involved. From what little you gather, Dylla Shocks was weaned on the milk of a storm cow as her mother had, unfortunately, passed soon after birth. As such, it seems that Dylla developed an affinity for thunder and lightning, which makes a pairing with Hakon rather auspicious. It's a shame he didn't work out with Audrikr's sister, but sometimes such things are for the best.
Last, but certainly not least, is Magni Littlerock, who is in the middle of an arm wrestling match between himself and the brothers of a little waif of a woman by the name of Lyndi Surlingsdottir. Knuckles touch wood as Magni is crowned victor three times in a row, having bested all three of Lyndi's brothers one after another. Surling Nailbiter himself—a more formidable foe than his sons by far—looks on from the distance. It'll be hard for the boy, there's no doubt about that, but perhaps he'll be able to prove himself to the old man after all? Only time will tell, though you have a good feeling about it.
As your eyes drift across the clearing prepared in anticipation of Yule, you fail to miss the arrival of a family you hoped would be in attendance. Buri of the Bog, as he is often called, steps into the party flanked by a trio of his sons—Bo, Boris, and Burtr. Though dressed in finery befitting their status, they all still bear peace-bonded arms on their person. While understandable for those new to the valley to be wary of those they don't know, you can't deny you hoped the Burissons would trust you enough to come weaponless.
Regardless, came they still did! That in of itself is a statement, given how ostracized and isolated—partly by choice and partly by reputation—the Burissons so often are. Sauntering on up to the ill-rumored family with a welcoming smile on your face and a hand held out, you strike up a warm greeting, "Hail, Buri and sons! I'm happy you could make it, though it's a shame the rest couldn't." Directing your gaze to Bo, you offer a nod to both him and one of the new arrival's daughters, "I heard about your engagement to Ruth Lutheinsdottir, Bo, and allow me to be the first to congratulate you on the marriage."
Bo nods his thanks as his eyes linger on his wife-to-be, "Thank you, Halla, really, but..."
"But inviting us here was a mistake," Buri grunts as he takes your hand in his with a sharp slap, "If we want to take him down, our alliance needs to be kept as quiet as possible to prevent my reputation from staining your own."
His voice is kept quiet, though the various charms and spells you've layered on both him and you render it a moot point. Nobody can hear what you speak of lest you will them to, such is the strength of the magic you worked.
"My reputation is strong," you shake your head, your hair whipping with the movement, "It'd take more than that to shake its foundations."
Buri scoffs and folds his arms, "I've seen friends turn on each other for less, Halla Sunshine. You can't afford to alienate anyone, lest they convince mutual friends to side with them rather than you."
Your brows dig a deep furrow on your head, "My men are loyal, bound by oath."
He shrugs, "Ten or so men isn't anywhere near enough to take a Jarldom. You'll need more friends, more allies, more people willing to throw their lot in with you. If you've got a poor reputation, it gets that much harder to do."
...As much as it irks you, he's got a point. Dorri has a significantly better position than you in the politics of the Valley. While your Seerwork is causing a shift in power and opinion, that doesn't mean you've got the standing to challenge the Hersir in his own land. Not yet, at least.
'In the game of politics, you either win or you die,' Blackhand mutters as you sigh, 'I fought against playing it in life for a reason and in death I find myself liking it even less.'
"I'll..." You scowl as you feel judgement-filled eyes on you, "I'll keep that in mind. I've got a way to make up any lost reputation, but I'll need to shirk you to do it."
Buri grins and offers a quick nod, "I'd have recommended you do that, had you not. There will be no hard feelings from me or my sons, no matter the words you must speak."
"Thank you, Buri," it's a tall order to ask him this, but he's the kind of man who understands that sacrifices must be made, "I'll make it up to you, once this is done."
He snorts and waves it off, "Killing that bastard is more than enough compensation, but I appreciate the gesture."
Sharing a parting nod, you do your best to ignore the withering stares leveled your way from some of the guests. Buri stays at the sidelines, which does reduce the heat some, but you'll need to make a statement one way or another eventually, else the rumor mill do its dark work.
Stepping up onto a rock positioned in command of the clearing, you raise your hands above your head and call the party to silence. All eyes fall to you as you take a deep breath and let your shoulders go slack as nerves leave your body.
Lifting your voice to the heavens, you start with a big smile and warm eyes, "Welcome, everyone, and thank you all for choosing to spend Yule in my company. It is a great honor to be in your presence and I wouldn't trade it for anything!" A few cheers ring out at that, your words of praise flowing like wine, "I have little to say here, for I am a woman of action! As such, to show my thanks to all those here, I have some gifts for the new families in our presence," with a flick of the wrist, you Recall a large satchel burgeoning with all manner of tools, "When I call your names, please approach the stone!"
One by one, you call names and give out bundles of masterwork gifts. Orthstirr falls across your shoulders as praise is offered by the wagonload, the words of glory as sweet as any drink in all the lands.
What doesn't go unnoticed, however, is that not all the new families received gifts by your hand. The family of Bo Burisson and Ruth Lutheinsdottir goes unadorned by your works of marvelous iron, a fact only right in the eyes of most of those in attendance.
Still, to so visibly ignore Buri... No matter how necessary it may be, it doesn't make it any more right.
Your sleep that night is wracked with uncertainty.
0~0~0 Divination
"So, how's the bear doing?" You ask nobody in particular as you trudge towards a spot picked out for the night's divinations, "Not tearing the place apart or anything?"
'It's doing fine, far as I can tell. Currently mostly just eating fish from the rivers, doesn't seem all that interested in the spirits or anything.'
A slight frown crosses your face as you shrug, "Well, have you had any realizations?"
'I'm fairly certain that this bear was once my pet, or at least the descendant of him. It's been so long that he's regressed to a more animalistic state, but, with time, perhaps we can draw him back out? Thank you, by the way, for not killing him. Though I have no memories beyond his existence, even his name is a mystery to me, I can't help but feel saddened by the prospect of his death.'
"Wasn't a big deal," you wave it off as you find a good spot and sit down. Retrieving the sticks and casting more than a few spells of secrecy, you soon find yourself casting the first, second, and third of the lots.
To the first question, for who knows of Dorri's deal with Drysalt, a single name returns to you, a name you hadn't been expecting at all. Logi Godsdamned Firehair knows of Dorri's deal with Drysalt.
The second question, about who knows the truth of what happened to the Witch, comes up with two names: Dorri Rattlespear and Halfdan the Dane.
The third question, if defeating and slaying Dorri would escalate things with Drysalt, comes up with a simple 'No'.
0~0~0
A young man comes knocking to your door, asking if you have any solutions to a problem he's been having with his hands. After inviting him inside and asking him after the details, you learn that his hands are always cold and clammy, which makes it difficult to shake hands with people.
What solution do you give him?
[ ] Write in a solution
0~0~0
[ ] Plan Name
-[ ] Write in what you wish to focus on
-[ ] Write in your first low-effort action
-[ ] Write in your second low-effort action
-[ ] Write in your extended action, if you desire to use it right now.
0~0~0
Training: You have 59 XP to spend as you see fit.
-[ ] Write in how you wish to spend it
0~0~0
-[ ] Work Options (Optional)
--[ ] Specify specific things
0~0~0
AN: And there we go, the first proper turn of the new system done!
How is it working, now that you've had a chance to experience it properly?
[X] For the man with clammy hands, offer him an ointment brewed with (among other things) the unconsumed experience of The First Warmth of the Rising Dawn, which he must use daily for the next 27 days, putting it on his hands and feet alike daily. We will charge him two ounces of silver for this, and it should cure the problem for good, if it does not he can come back and we'll fix it another way.
[X] Plan Goodbye Brother Bart (For Real This Time)
-[X] Send off Brother Bartholomew for Wessex
--[X] Assigning Vagn Wheel-Drifter and anyone else who wants to go on a quick drop off to accompany him.
--[X] Send them along on one of the ships already headed that way this year
--[X] Offer to send Seeingsnow with them if Seeingsnow so desires.
--[X] Send a letter to Gabriel, asking Brother Bartholomew to deliver it and explaining our connection with Gabriel Blackstone, who seems likely to be a relative of his.
---[X] This letter will tell Gabriel of Steinarr's death, and request that he help us against those who killed him, if he is willing (along with noting the rough time frame based on Drysalt's threat, and that these enemies include supernatural evil). They did deny him his own chance for revenge, after all, and our remaining family is in danger, we could use his help. That said, this is a request for help from a friend, not a demand.
--[X] Suggest picking up books might be a thing that Vagn could do (with Brother Bart's advice) and we'd appreciate, and send him with some money for that.
-[X] Talk to Abjorn
--[X] Try to convince him to actually cultivate Odr, work on his soulscape and Infuse things. Specifically, note that it's a relatively safe route to power, indicate (in veiled terms) the food security provided by the field, and so on. Power can be an end goal, but even if you don't care about that power helps to shape the world and defend the part of it you already hold...Abjorn is already powerful, but the more powerful he is the safer both he and our family as a whole are. We want that for him. Can he please put in the effort?
--[X] We're not encouraging him to do anything risky like Hugr Infusion (that's up to him), but Infusion in Hamr, Combat, Labor, and stuff like that, and making a House, Fence, and Fields are all too useful for him not to engage with.
-[X] [Focus] Talk With Our Slavic Retainers
--[X] Now that we have a language in common get to know them and see if they have any issues or things they'd like to do.
--[X] Hopefully also get some information on Slavic Cultivation, but getting to know them is the priority
--[X] If we have time after dealing with any issues and getting to know people see if Kazimir has any interesting knowledge we could learn from him
-[X] (Training) Hamr (511 xp to rank up)
--[X] Train the Sword Stepping Martial Style 7xp
--[X] Train Tree-Split Trick 6xp (3xp)
--[X] Train Stunner-Slam 6xp (3xp)
--[X] Train Tendon Cut 6xp (3xp)
--[X] Train Palm Crush 6xp (3xp)
--[X] Train Meteoric Shot 6xp (3xp)
--[X] Train Devouring Blaze 36 xp (18 xp)
-[X] (Training) Hugr (255 xp to rank up)
--[X] Train Flashfire Cleave 36xp (9xp)
--[X] Train Dead Air 6xp
--[X] Train Warm Up 8xp (2xp)
--[X] Train Dry Off 8xp (2xp)
-[X] (Work Options)
--[X] Remake our 11 Basic Shields as Superior (11 Work)
--[X] Write A Poem - Ginnungagap (3 Work)
--[X] Check if Extinguish works to put our Sunfire. The Owlbear proved it doesn't work on Finales, but this seems worth checking. (1 Work)
--[X] See what we can figure out about the Earthblood without opening it. Especially what would happen if we opened the vial. (1 Work)
--[X] Try and Alloy Fight of Our Life and Stoker State and see what happens (1 Work)
-[X] (Shapeshifting Slots)
--[X] Reassign our slots to two in Improved Attractiveness, six in Reduced Sleep, and two in Sharpened Senses.
-[X] (Incidentals)
--[X] Infuse **4 Odr** each into Smithing, Scouting, Housecraft, and Travel and **8 Odr** each into Combat, Wordplay, and Labor
--[X] Adding Taafl Board Capacity Gains to: Nobody (we did two last time)
--[X] Receiving Metal from Dwarves: 24 oz Forged Iron, 6 oz Drafty Iron
Tree-Split Trick (Rough-Refined)
Stunner-Slam (Rough-Refined)
Tendon Cut (Rough-Refined)
Palm Crush (Rough-Refined)
Meteoric Shot (Rough-Refined)
Dead Air (Rough-Refined)
Dry Off (Rough-Refined)
Warm Up (Rough-Refined)
Remaking Shields
Rather than turn your basic shields into superior quality shields, you decide to just make eleven new shields of superior quality while hanging onto the basics. After all, you never know when having a large number of shields may come in handy!
0~0~0 Ginnungagap Poem
The poem about Ginnungagap is of sufficient quality to earn you some orthstirr.
0~0~0 Extinguish on Sunfire
Extinguish does, in fact, put out Sunfire.
0~0~0 Earthblood
While you learn nothing new about Earthblood, you do realize that, should you empty the vial, it would be rather difficult to put it back in given the heat and viscosity of the substance.
0~0~0 Fight of Our Life + Stoker State
For whatever reason, it appears that Alloying Fight of Our Life and Stoker State doesn't work. You can only imagine that it's because Fight of Our Life is an Alloy in of itself, but you could be wrong.
0~0~0 Speaking with your Slavic retainers
There's only a few specks of snow left—barely enough to call a pile!—out on the untrodden paths of your home. With the changing of the seasons and the warming of the weather, soon shall the stragglers melt off on their merry way. But until then, there are still flecks of white to pass as you carry a load of firewood to your house.
Offering a nod to Tryggr and Trausti as they drive new fenceposts deep into the earth—the posts' predecessors having suffered greatly from a particularly ornery spirit of rot after you'd refused it entry into your pantry—you follow the slightly waterlogged path leading up the hill. Avoiding a small swamp of mud, a warm smile graces your face as your eyes find the small patch of flowers beginning to sprout next to your home.
Just about two or so weeks ago, Hallbjorn had managed to acquire a collection of seeds from Gods know where and, with the 'help' of Steinulf and Asveig, planted them right beside the front door. With a trowel he'd had his beaver carve from a stump of hardwood, Hallbjorn rests on his hands and knees as he carefully clears the plants of the weeds threatening to take root. A sweetly-singing songbird flutters overhead as he dumps a handful of root-stranglers into a small divot in the ground. A flick of the wrist and a surge of crimson orthstirr is all it takes for a heartbeat-long flame to utterly incinerate the weeds.
Hallbjorn barely acknowledges your presence as you walk by, so entranced is he by his work. Climbing up onto the stone-cut doorstep, you knock the dirt from your shoes with a sharp kick of the heels before nudging the door open and stepping inside.
Immediately upon entry, you're greeted by the warmth of a crackling hearth and the sweet smell of baking bread. Barely visible through the covering of coals at the edge of the flames, the loaves slowly turn from lumps of wet dough to golden-crusted loaves of lovely fresh bread. Made from local, wildly growing, sweet-grain found only in the shadow of barrow-mounds, the bread—known abroad as 'barrowbread', thanks to the barrows themselves serving as the source of the yeast—is a specialty of the Hading-dwellers. It's also quite tasty, especially if one takes the time to properly stuff a loaf with marinated meats and melted cheeses.
Slinging the firewood bundle from your shoulder and depositing it in the copper-frame stack-holder just inside the doorway, you drape your woolen cloak and weapons on the claw-shaped rack running round the interior of your house walls before stepping further inside.
With their backs to the entrance and the door's opening and closing cloaked by the sharply popping fire—some sparkwood must have gotten into the stack, how annoying—Lata and Haydis fail to notice your arrival. As they're hard at work with your least favorite task—collecting dirty laundry—you deem it prudent to avoid announcing your presence until they're almost done with the work. After all, why suffer soiled clothes if you don't have to?
It doesn't take long at all for Lata and Haydis to finish up, what with most of the residents being adults who can look after themselves—cough, cough Tryggr cough, cough—meaning that you're only able to catch the tail end of their conversation.
"So, what do you think I should do?" Lata's accent is fainter than her fellow Slavs', having picked up Norse far faster and to a far more developed degree. So much so that you've even found her composing a few stanzas of poetry!
"Well," Haydis hums to herself as she plucks the last blanket from the floor—a soft-blue sheet that had cost you a pretty penny only to be used near exclusively by Bjorney and, to a lesser extent, Eyvor, "have you tried asking him if he's interested in you?"
Lata shakes her head, her short, black hair bobbing as it dances around her shoulders—she'd kept it fairly short ever since she was freed from Thralldom, apparently preferring it at that length, "Uh, well, I haven't?" She tries a shrug and an awkward, slightly strained smile, "Do you think I should?"
Haydis levels a mother's stare Lata's way as she perfectly folds the fabric blind. "Does a bear sleep on a blue blanket?"
It's at that moment you decide to make your presence known. Leaning in and loudly clearing your throat, Haydis notices you just in time to save herself a scare. Which is more than can be said for poor Lata.
Hands fly towards the heavens following a shrill shriek as Lata fully leaves the ground. Twisting around mid-air, Lata lands back down with only a single foot on the ground—the other swept forward and carrying her towards the hearthflame. A shock of guilt and fear rampages through your heart as you realize what you've down. Hand flicking forward, a line of crimson orthstirr snaps into existence and connects her shirt to your hand. Sharply yanking on the strand, you Recall with more than a little bit of strength as you pull Lata away from the open flame and into your arms.
'I was about to say something about being mean,' Blackhand remarks as Lata slowly hyperventilates her way into calming down, 'but I think you made up for it there.'
Yeah... Scaring a former thrall isn't the best look, now that you think about it.
"Halla!" Lata scowls as she manages to wrestle control back over herself. As she says your name, though, a bolt of realization shocks its way through her mind as an idea happens upon her, "Halla!"
"That's my name," you grin, a rather odd sense of melancholy rising as your thoughts turn to Stigr. The feeling leaves as quickly as it came, the only thing in its wake a handful of memories still warm from nostalgia.
Haydis watches with amusement as Lata scrambles from your arms and smooths out her skirts. Taking a deep breath, Lata nods to herself as she levels a smile your way, "Halla, I have a favor to ask."
'This would be a good way to make up for scaring her,' Blackhand mentions just as you were going to accept, briefly throwing you into a minor dilemma. After all, it's never a good feeling for someone to tell you to do something you were already doing. Regardless, it's not like you're going to refuse her, you know?
"Well," Lata nods as you accept, taking a moment to collect herself, "I want to marry Stigmar, but I don't know all that much about him or his family. Can you help me get in good with them?"
"I would," you grimace while rocking on your heels, "but it's not really possible right now, as his family are scattered to the winds."
Lata blinks, shrinking in on herself, "Oh... Did something... Happen?"
You nod, but are quick to clarify, "Most of his family are still alive, just not here anymore."
"I see," she frowns for a moment, "In that case, can you tell me what Stigmar likes in a woman?"
You open your mouth to answer, only to pause and close it as nothing comes to mind. That's, now that you think about it, actually a really good question. What does Stigmar like in a woman? You've only known the guy for, what, seven or so years? You'd think you'd learn a fact or two about him over the years!
However, you're not one to give up—ever—so you simply nod your head and give Lata a grin, "I'll go find out for you, how's that?"
The smile that splits her face could blind the sun, "That'd be great! Thank you so much!"
As you leave them to their work—but not before offering Haydis a nod—you start working out the solution to something of a log in the road. For you see, Stigmar's been somewhat absent as of late. Disappearing off into the woods in the morning, he only returns in the evenings drenched head to toe with sweat.
Well, given that he always comes back covered in sweat, it does narrow down the potential possibilities quite a bit. He's gotta be doing something that creates a lot of sweat, after all, and there's only a few things you can think of that'd cause it. For Lata's sake, you can only hope it's less carnal than some of the options.
Regardless, where he goes is a mystery, one you'll need to solve one way or another. Since he's covered in sweat and the like, he's probably stinking up a storm wherever he's at. If you had a good nose, you could very easily follow the trail to his location. Fortunately, you have two such sniffers right on hand.
Unfortunately, though, your preferred choice of Abjorn is unavailable. He's currently busy helping Sten with some manner of construction—more physical labor than anything else. You'd offered to help when Sten had come by, as you've got a good head for designing things, but that only seemed to tick Sten off. He's been in something of a bad mood at late, even before he came by, though won't answer any of your questions.
Still, you've got a job to do and need some help to get it done. While Abjorn and his nose are currently indisposed, Kare Wolf-Seek is both in possession of such a nose and is able to help out in this quest of yours. Last you saw him, he was heading out to sow the fields with Vesna. They're probably mostly done by now, but you might as well go lend a hand while you've got the time, right?
Plucking your cloak from the rack and returning your weapons to their proper positions, you nod to yourself before stepping outside. The warmth of sunlight on your skin is always a surefire way to provide your mood with something of a kick in the pants. Stifling a sun-drawn yawn, you start your stroll down the hillside only to pause mid-step as something seems off to your eyes. Like runes without color or ship without sail, there's something missing in the scene before you.
It doesn't take long at all to hone in on the missing piece in the puzzle. Where once there was the snick-snick of trowel through soil, now there is but silence. The spot Hallbjorn once knelt is empty, empty save for the trowel discarded in a pile of plants. You didn't feel anything in your mother's sense, so the slight fear creeping up your spine has no real bite to it. Still, it isn't like Hallbjorn to just abandon things like that. Not without good reason, anywho.
Even though you know he's not in danger, the fact that there's been some suspicious characters around asking Dorri after your land does little to settle the unease building in your stomach. Especially since the farm is slightly understaffed at the moment—as you'd sent Vagn, Hakon, and Magni off to Asvir to both arrange for a ship and to gather information on said suspicious characters—it isn't impossible that some unknown foe swept in and snatched Hallbjorn away.
As much as you might loathe to admit it, your children are your weakness. If someone wanted something of you, something you didn't want to give, holding one or more of your children hostage is a way to get you to the negotiating table—at least until Abjorn or another finds and frees the hostage, anyways.
'Tryggr and Trausti are still working on the fence, surely they'd have something to say should that have happened,' Blackhand's rumbling voice is a welcome distraction from the fears clawing into your heart. Banishing the worries with a deep breath, you turn your gaze to where...
"What am I looking at here?" Your brows dig a deep valley on your head as your stare drills through Tryggr and Trausti's strained smiles. Behind them stands a rather suggestively carved fence post with two egg-shaped bulbs at the base.
Trausti sighs, rubbing at the side of his nose as he elbows his brother, "I told you that she'd notice!"
"That was never in doubt!" Tryggr retorts with a jutting chin and hands on his hips, "The bet was for how long it would take her."
"And she noticed it immediately," Trausti rolls his eyes as he gestures your way, "which means you still lost," he lays his hand out palm-up and prods Tryggr, "so pay up."
Tryggr groans, but obliges by digging out two coins from his purse and planting them firmly in Trausti's palm. While all of this is going on, you're still squinting from atop the hill.
"You are going to fix it, right?" Your words draw flinches from the brothers as they hurriedly nod and offer a chorus of affirmatives, "And..." Swallowing the sudden lump in your throat, you release a long stream of air before soldiering on, "and have you seen Hallbjorn?"
"Oh yeah," Tryggr nods as he points off towards the hills, "Asgeirr ran on by and dragged him off to the hills, to help his siblings with the livestock."
You slump forwards as a wave of relief washes across your body. "Oh thank the Gods."
'Can we get back to Lata's thing, now that that's solved?' Blackhand grumbles as you direct a quirked brow his way, 'What? I'm invested!'
Shaking your head at his antics, you wave goodbye to your retainers as you turn down the path taking you to the fields. It won't be a long walk—less than five minutes, by your reckoning—but it's enough for you to fully calm down and relieve yourself of all the stress of the Hallbjorn debacle.
'You know,' Blackhand begins after a moment's thought, 'I think you might be more mercurial than normal.'
"How so?"
'Well, you're more prone to spikes of emotion, and it's not your period, so clearly something is off.' You're just gonna ignore that middle bit there, 'If I had to hazard a guess, I'd say that it's a consequence of imbibing that blood.'
You pause on the spot as the wind picks up, taking strands of your hair along for the ride, "Was imbibing it a mistake?"
'I wouldn't say that,' Blackhand is quick to shut down that train of thought, 'I would say that Power Requires Sacrifice. It's one of the oldest laws of existence. Such is the way of things.'
You watch the wind pass through trees, silent thoughts running through your head.
"Such is the way of things."
Deciding that it's better to think about such difficult things when you've got the time to think about them—and not, you know, when you're in the middle of a task for another person, and also because Blackhand would nag you until the end of time—you restart your walk to the fields and actually finish it this time.
Passing by a patch of white-petalled wildflowers growing by the gate, you round the path wrapping around the outside of the fence and lay eyes on the sprawling fields belonging to your family. The good soil on the inside of the fence—safe from curious wildlife and hungry foes—had already been sown with more than enough crops to keep your household feed for the foreseeable future. All that's left to do is to ready the outer fields for hay, so that your animals may have food over the winter.
With all the hay left over from last year's bumper crop, there's not much need to sow as much this year. Still, it's a good idea to sow some just in case vermin find homes in the stock—as happened over at Halfdan's, though you offered up some of your own stores to alleviate the burden on him—so it's no surprise to find only Kare and Vesna working the fields at this time.
A singular stalk of sweet-grain dangles from Kare's wolfish mouth as he walks the fields with seedbag in hand. A hood sits on his head with embroider-bordered holes cut out for his ears, which swivel to and fro as he keeps an eye on the horizon. One of his clawed hands is always ready to dart to the sword at his waist should any danger make itself known, as is the way of Norsemen all the world over.
At his side walks the matronly Vesna as she sows handfuls of seed across the furrowed field. A tall woman easily standing eye-to-eye with Kare, age has done little to dull the beauty of her youth. Wrinkles crowd her eyes while herk dark locks lacks its once-luster, but she acts with such confidence and authority that lesser men find themselves walking in her wake should they not pay attention to their actions.
Lifting your hand overhead, you call out a greeting to the pair roaming the fields, "Hail, Wolf-Seek and Vesna! How goes the sowing?"
Kare's ears flick as his nose twitches. Glowing, golden eyes turn your way from beneath the shadow of his green-dyed hood. He tosses out the last seeds in his hand before returning your wave with one of his own as Vesna offers a brief curtsey, "Greetings, Jarl," the head of grain moves up and down with his jaw, having been lodged between fang and tooth, "the sowing goes well, though some help would be greatly appreciated."
Seeing as you were planning on helping out anyways—and it would be rude to just drag him away from his work for an errand of your own—you shrug and nod. Grabbing a nearby sack of seeds from the stack loosely piled at the edge of the fields, you join the pair in their sowing.
Sowing is an easy enough process, all things considered, but it's nothing if not time consuming. All you're really doing is walking the fields and tossing out handfuls of seed, but that's only the first step. Next is the part that really takes time, the part where you make sure each seed finds home in the soil. Up and down the fields you stroll, pushing seeds into the dirt with whatever tools you have on hand—or, if you're unlucky, your hands and feet.
This process can last for several days and can see the lost of a great many seeds as they take in poor spots and ill-furrowed ground. However, it's better than just scattering the seeds and hoping for the best as was the practice for many generations. It's in times like this, when you're doing the work of ten men—or mucking the stables, a foul experience beyond any argument—that you can't help but wish you had some thralls on hand to do it for you. Alas, your morals restrict such possibilities.
Still, time at simple work leaves ample time for socializing. Seeing as you're not going anywhere anytime soon, you figure you might as well strike up a conversation with Kare and Vesna.
"So, Kare," your foot sinks slightly in a particularly squishy patch of dirt, "when did you get that hood? It looks nice, with the silver on the green, but I've never seen you wearing it before."
"Ah, you like it?" He grins a rather wolfish grin as he fingers the brim. His golden gaze flicks towards Vesna, who just-so-happens to be looking to the hills in all-too-innocent fashion, "A certain someone made it for me during Yule. A gift much too fine for one such as myself, but a gift it was given as, so a gift I shall continue to wear."
Kare's fondness for wordplay takes a moment to parse, but the way a smile graces Vesna's face is all the clarity you need. An often quiet woman, Vesna rarely speaks unless she believes her words are necessary—a trait clearly passed on to her children. Still, as one of the oldest on the farm, there's no wonder why she chooses to spend her time with Kare Wolf-Seek, as they are quite close in age and attitude. Both take life one step at a time, never dwelling too long on the past while keeping an eager eye on the future.
'He and she will be married by year's end, mark my words,' Blackhand chuckles as you roll your eyes.
Paw and pinkie twist together as Kare and Vesna work as one to sow the fields. With your help, the work progresses swiftly and, by late midday, you're all done with this section of land. There's a few more to do, but those can be tackled in the following days. For now, though, you turn your attention to Kare as he and Vesna start making their way towards the gate.
"Hey, Kare!" His ears twitch as you call out to him, "I've got a task I need your help with."
He and Vesna pause just as they set foot onto the path. A flicker of irritation crosses both their faces, but disappears as quick as it came as they look back your way, "How urgent is it? Vesna and I promised to help Kazimir with the horses when we finished our work."
Your face twists into a light frown, "Shouldn't he have finished with that by now? All he needed to do was clean and feed them, not that much to it."
"Kazimir has fear of horses," Vesna picks that moment to speak, having stayed mostly silent up until that point, "Cannot stand being near to horses."
Her Norse is rough and fairly simplistic, having struggled the most out of all your Slavic retainers to learn your mother-tongue. She can understand it just fine, as far as you can tell, it's the speaking that she struggles with. ...Which, now that you think about it, might be one of the reasons she keeps quiet most of the time.
"I see," you mutter as you run finger and thumb across jaw and chin. While you'd very much like to find Stigmar, it's not like you're going to be failing if you don't. He'll come back to the house sooner or later and you can just speak to him then. However... "Well, in that case, why don't I come and help out? Sooner it's done, the sooner you can come help me."
Kare nods, the wind playfully batting at his hood, "I reckon that'll work."
With that said and done, you, Kare, and Vesna all make your way to the stables located on the inside of the fence. As you do, you note that Tryggr and Trausti, true to their word, had indeed replaced the questionable post with one uniform to the rest. As Tryggr's voice rings cheerily from the inside of the house, it's clear that they finished earlier than expected.
Regardless, the stables are just off to the side of the house, where a slightly less well-travelled path leads you straight to a set of sliding double-doors—one of your own design, in fact! Kazimir sits on a stool as he wields a stick to sketch drawings in the foot-trampled dirt. They don't seem to have much thought behind them, more a way to pass idle time than anything else.
As Kazimir spots you, though, he quickly wipes the dirt away with a sharp kick as he scrambles to his feet. "H-Halla!" He's quick to swallow the lump in his throat, "I-I-I was just resting a-after looking after th-the," he struggles greatly as he stutters along—a vocal tic that seems ever-present no matter his mood—before managing to force out the difficult word in a great, hollering shout, "horses!"
You raise an empty palm and shake your head, "It's fine to be scared, Kazimir," he flinches as you speak, your words drilling through him like the carpenter does to wood, "just as long as your fear doesn't hinder others."
He swallows, not really listening to your words as he nods, "R-right, well," he rubs at the nape of his neck as he rocks back and forth on his heels, a slight slouch to his posture as he glances to the doorway, "C-can you h-help me, please?"
You were already going to, so you simply nod, smile, and get to work.
The doors slide open to reveal some hungry-looking horses looking eagerly to the door. Hay fills their troughs as you, Kare, Vesna, and—to a lesser extent—Kazimir feed, water, and clean both Morningsilver and Sundancer as well as the foal trailing behind Morningsilver. It had been a great deal of trouble getting the horses to breed, as they seemed to have it out for each other, but you eventually got a colt for the trouble.
While you've not yet named the thing, it's clear enough from the flames in his mane and the silver sparkles rising from his hooves that the colt is going to be of a high quality. Maybe even surpassing his parents!
Regardless, four sets of hands make short work of the stable. Leaving the string-looped brush to dangle from the hook-covered wall, you stifle a yawn as you lace your fingers together and stretch your arms high overhead. Just as another yawn threatens to spill free of your mouth, the door slides open and a familiar face pokes his head inside.
"Halla!" Magni Littlerock's eyes light up as he sees you, a broad grin spreading on his face as he waves you over, "Come quick, I've got good news!"
Sharing an arched brow with Kare, you shrug and make your way over to the open door as Magni eagerly points towards the gate at the bottom of the hill. Following his pointing finger, you find yourself gazing at a well-armed party of large, strong men talking amongst themselves. There's nine in total and none of their faces seem familiar.
A frown tugs at the corners of your lips as you consider the possibilities. Magni said that he had good news, so the strangers are probably not enemies, though that could have been a ruse or him trying to get your attention in an inconspicuous way. Still, you'll give the men the benefit of the doubt for the time being. After all, they haven't shown any ill-will your way yet.
The largest among them catches your eye immediately, for he is a Berserk—as are a smattering of the men behind him. They're clearly warriors and good ones at that, so why have they come to your humble farm?
Fortunately, Magni has the answers for the questions you hadn't yet asked, "That's Jogrim Foestep and I met him in Asvir. He's from Jurgdby and he's in the horse-rearing business, so, when I told him of your horses, he was eager to see them and maybe even talk business!"
Parsing through the river-rapids-like deluge of words, you eventually find yourself nodding along. Jogrim is clearly well-off—the fine embroidery around his cuffs and collar are of a quality only the wealthy can achieve—and, frankly, the horses might be more trouble than they're worth. Especially since the damn things can't stand each other. Getting someone to take one or both off your hands could be a boon... As long as you make a little bit of profit on it, of course.
However, there's something that leaves you uneasy about this whole thing. What're the odds that Magni, Vagn, and Hakon would meet a stranger in Asvir who just so happened to both be interested in horses and have enough money to consider buying your own? That, plus the strangers making noise in Asvir, immediately puts you on edge and a quick headcount only heightens your unease. Of all your retainers, only six of them are nearby and able to help should a fight break out. Seven versus nine is a losing battle by and large, though strength disparity would certainly play a part.
You'll have to have a conversation with Magni and the others about inviting strangers to the house, but, for now, you'll just have to hope that it's all happenstance and you're worried about nothing. After all, it's a poor host who turns away strangers at the door.
Telling Kazimir and the others to prepare the horses for inspection, you take Magni along as you start your approach with a plastered-on smile.
Your approach is noticed as soon as you emerge from the stable's shadows. The warmth on your skin immediately improves your mood as you make your way down the hill, the sun doing its job in smoothing out your wrinkled nerves.
"Greetings, mistress of the house!" Jogrim lifts his hand in greeting as you catch a whiff of the mutton hidden within the satchel on his waist. Your mouth starts to water as your suspicions do the same. "I am called Jogrim Foestep and I have heard you have some quality horseflesh!"
"You heard right, Jogrim Foestep," your estimations of him as a warrior grow sharply as you feel the thick callouses on his meaty hands. "I'm Halla Sunshine and you're welcome to my farm, though," you lay a wary eye on the iron of his men, "I'll have to ask your men to either stay outside or leave their weapons with my men, as one can never be too cautious."
Jogrim nods readily as he gestures for his men to do as you ask, the lot of them stepping out beyond the gate, "A fair request from a fairer woman. These are turbulent times we live in, after all, and just caution is a sign of the wise."
"Well," you clap your hands as you start moving up the hill, "if you'll follow me, I'll take you to the hors-"
Jogrim cuts you off with a laugh, "What's with the hurry? Come," he waves you over to him as he reaches into his coin purse, "have a bite to eat with me, as I never do business without first getting to know my partner-to-be." From the bag comes several things that have no right to fit in something so small. An overhead tent, table, chairs, mead, and meat come out one after the other as a dining arrangement is swiftly erected on your lawn.
Sharing a glance with your men, who shrug, you can only sigh and take the seat across from Jogrim as he honors you by serving you himself. Mead flows into your cup as he unveils the bundle of mutton on the table, your stomach rumbling at the sight of your favored food.
"I heard mutton is your favorite food," he explains as he cuts the tender flesh and serves it in your bowl, "so I had my men procure some before setting out. I've found in my travels that making a good impression is often worth its weight in gold."
"An opinion we share, it seems," the mead has a pleasant aroma and it tastes even better. Sweetened with some fragrant herb, it lingers for just long enough to burn itself into your memory before disappearing down your throat. Despite the worries filling you moments before, you can't help but feel a bit warmer towards the man. "Tell me, Jogrim, why have you come to the Hading Valley? Surely you can't have come all this way for me."
"A fine question!" He laughs heartily as he slaps his knee, "My brother-in-law, Griss Strongthrow, has been asking me to come and visit him for the longest time." Leaning in, he offers a conspiratorial wink as his voice lowers to a mock-whisper, "Between you and me, Griss' home is nothing compared to mine and, if I had it my way, he'd be visiting me. Alas," he shrugs and leans back in his chair, "I can't ignore his requests when it's my only sister who sends them." He puts an odd emphasis on 'only', though you can't seem to find a reason why.
"A travesty, I'm sure," you reply as the first bite of mutton passes your lips. Immediately, any thoughts you may have had about his odd word choice flees your mind as the taste hits your mouth. Rich in flavor and thick with fat, it's a delight to have on your tongue and you soon find yourself staring at the barren bottom of your now empty bowl. "This," you remark as you tap the tip of your knife against the lip of the bowl, "is good mutton."
"Thank you very much," Jogrim beams as he too finishes off his own helping. "Never have I had the pleasure of working with such fine animals before coming here, so I feared I may have ruined it in my inexperience. I'm quite pleased to hear I haven't!"
"Wait," your brows furrow as your quirk your head, "you made this?"
"Indeed I did, Sunshine, and I'll ask that you don't hold it against me," he nods as he leans back in his chair. "After all, it's not often one has a woman aboard a ship, so, if one wants to have a decent meal, one needs to get familiar with the cooking flame."
'He's not wrong,' Blackhand mutters as the conversation turns this way and that, 'I picked up a few cooking techniques during my voyages, though I don't remember any now.'
The sun creeps closer to the horizon as you slowly find your smile growing more and more earnest. Laughter leaves your lips as he utters joke after joke, his charisma undeniable as you soon find yourself thinking warmly of the man.
Deep down, though, the fact that Jogrim Foestep could very well be an enemy burns bright, defiant to the end in the light of his charisma.
Eventually, the stable doors swing open as Kazimir comes stumbling down the hill. Such is his haste that he nearly trips on the way down, a Slavic swear leaving his lips as he manages to catch himself at the last moment.
Skidding to a halt at the foot of the hill, he's breathing heavily from the short trek, but still manages to make an announcement, "Th-the horses are re-ready."
"Splendid!" Jogrim smiles as he rises to his feet, his hands clapping together as he unbuckles his sword and sax before handing them—along with his spear and shield—off to Hakon, who had been watching with Magni and Vagn nearby. Before he follows you up the hill, though, he pauses before Kazimir and levels a stern glare his way, "Now, young man, it isn't polite to swear before a lady such as your mistress, let alone in a language she may not speak. One must always be upfront in their intentions, else be stricken with nid."
Kazimir blinks, absolutely not understanding what in the heck Jogrim's talking about, and just offers a nod in response, "Uh, r-right, I'll, um, k-keep it in mind?"
Jogrim's eyes linger on him for a moment longer before he sighs and shrugs. Turning to you as you resume your travels, he mutters beneath his breath, "Forgive me for asking, but who was that young man? I can't help but feel like I've seen him before."
"His name's Kazimir, a Slav."
"A Slav?" Jogrim tilts his head as he rubs at his curly, bush-like red beard, "I did do some raiding in those parts some years back, I might have encountered him then."
"...Right," could Jogrim have...? No, what're the odds of that?
...The same odds of someone happening to have an interest in your horses and the money to buy them off you.
Your gut twists itself into knots as you reach the door and slide it open. Light shines into the otherwise dark building as Vesna and Kare turn to look. As Vesna's eyes move from you to Jogrim, she stills as her breathing kicks up a notch. The sharp scent of stark fear fills the air with its acrid stench as you and Kare share a glance.
"Jogrim," you begin as Vesna shivers and shakes at the name, "forgive me but I need to take care of something. Kare is well-versed in the horses," he isn't, but he's quick on his feet and able to bullshit with the best of them, should he be so inclined. "Vesna, can you come with me?"
Vesna is quick to follow you from the stables, her eyes never leaving Jogrim for a moment. Jogrim offers an arched brow as he watches you leave, but says nothing about it as he turns to Kare and starts to speak.
Taking shelter in the shadow of the stables, you take her sweaty hands in your own as you look her in the eye, "What's wrong, Vesna?" Though you ask the question, some part of you already knows the answer.
"He killed Plamen," that's a name you haven't heard before. "He killed Bratko. Took me and children and burn home. All before eyes."
Your lips form a thin line as anger burns hot in your chest, "Go to the house and tell Tryggr and Trausti to ready for battle. Hopefully they won't be needed, but we'll have to see." Tryggr and Trausti in full battle garb will likely make the difference in numbers should a fight break out, but no plan survives contact with the enemy.
Vesna nods hurriedly as she turns and makes for the house. She's not running, both to avoid tripping on the uneven ground and to not tip Jogrim's men off, but she is moving quickly. You watch her long enough to make certain she makes it to the house before returning to the barn.
Rounding the corner, you pause in the doorway as you lock eyes with Kare. His hand had slipped down to his sword as Jogrim closely inspected the colt. He's waiting for your word, or a nod, or anything giving him leave to strike Jogrim dead.
Do you give it?
[ ] Yes (Starts a fight)
[ ] No (Avoids a fight)
0~0~0
AN: Originally, I was going to have Halla just shake her head here, but I decided to let you folks decide for yourselves what you do.
-[X] [Focus] Talk With Our Slavic Retainers
--[X] Now that we have a language in common get to know them and see if they have any issues or things they'd like to do.
--[X] Hopefully also get some information on Slavic Cultivation, but getting to know them is the priority
--[X] If we have time after dealing with any issues and getting to know people see if Kazimir has any interesting knowledge we could learn from him
-[X] Send off Brother Bartholomew for Wessex
--[X] Assigning Vagn Wheel-Drifter and anyone else who wants to go on a quick drop off to accompany him.
--[X] Send them along on one of the ships already headed that way this year
--[X] Offer to send Seeingsnow with them if Seeingsnow so desires.
--[X] Send a letter to Gabriel, asking Brother Bartholomew to deliver it and explaining our connection with Gabriel Blackstone, who seems likely to be a relative of his.
---[X] This letter will tell Gabriel of Steinarr's death, and request that he help us against those who killed him, if he is willing (along with noting the rough time frame based on Drysalt's threat, and that these enemies include supernatural evil). They did deny him his own chance for revenge, after all, and our remaining family is in danger, we could use his help. That said, this is a request for help from a friend, not a demand.
--[X] Suggest picking up books might be a thing that Vagn could do (with Brother Bart's advice) and we'd appreciate, and send him with some money for that.
-[X] Talk to Abjorn
--[X] Try to convince him to actually cultivate Odr, work on his soulscape and Infuse things. Specifically, note that it's a relatively safe route to power, indicate (in veiled terms) the food security provided by the field, and so on. Power can be an end goal, but even if you don't care about that power helps to shape the world and defend the part of it you already hold...Abjorn is already powerful, but the more powerful he is the safer both he and our family as a whole are. We want that for him. Can he please put in the effort?
--[X] We're not encouraging him to do anything risky like Hugr Infusion (that's up to him), but Infusion in Hamr, Combat, Labor, and stuff like that, and making a House, Fence, and Fields are all too useful for him not to engage with.
[X] For the man with clammy hands, offer him an ointment brewed with (among other things) the unconsumed experience of The First Warmth of the Rising Dawn, which he must use daily for the next 27 days, putting it on his hands and feet alike daily. We will charge him two ounces of silver for this, and it should cure the problem for good, if it does not he can come back and we'll fix it another way.
0~0~0
As luck would have it—for a given definition of luck, anyhow—Jogrim Foestep left soon after he finished inspecting the horses, citing that he already had horses of that quality as the reason why. Angling towards the west-northwest, they set out on their journey to the Fjord upon which Griss Strongthrow's farm lies.
As you watch the man and his entourage disappear over the horizon, you can't help but breathe a sigh of relief as the wind carries your children's laughter your way. Though you know, deep down, that their protection was held by the worthy hands of Trygve and Alvis, having some real, tangible evidence towards their safety is always a surefire way to relieve the weight upon your shoulders and the tension in the air.
After collecting Kare and making certain of your equipment's condition—excellent, as always—you let Kare lead the way as you keep a potentially paranoid eye on your surroundings. This eye only grows more and more wary as you find yourself going deeper and deeper into the Hading. The deeper one trespasses into the wilderness of the Hading, the older the land is beneath your feet. Ancient canopies shake with the wind over your heads as you keep a hand on your weapons at all times.
Far more dangerous things than spirits of the past call the Hading home, after all. Tales of beasts best left slumbering haunted your childhood and even now you can't quite shake the terror that gripped your youthful heart.
Fortunately, you're not nearly as alone as your nightmares always left you. Kare is at your side and a mighty warrior is he. With you and him working together, there's not much that can stand in your collective way.
"What are we going to do about Jogrim?" Kare's voice breaks the fallen silence blanketing your walk.
You suck down a sharp breath as you grit your teeth, eyes fixed straight ahead, "If he wants iron, we'll give him all we've got and then some."
"We're not killing him?"
"If we were to find him alone or in the field, ask me that question again." You shrug as you step over a hefty root, "Otherwise, we're not going after him. Not right now, at least."
"He killed her brother, her husband," Kare says after a few moments' silence, "I'm going to kill him, one way or another. If I have to leave your service to do so..."
He doesn't finish that sentence, but he doesn't need to. While you releasing him would be preferable, it isn't strictly necessary for him to pursue his foe. "I understand."
'He must really love that woman, if he's willing to break a solemn oath for her,' Blackhand mutters as silence once more falls across your company.
Thankfully, the silence only lasts for a few moments as you catch the sound of trickling water and the noise of grunted exertion from just beyond eyesight. A few steps more takes you into view of the man you've been looking for: Stigmar Kersson.
You blink and stare as Stigmar grits his teeth, his clothes draped across a low-hanging branch alongside a satchel and some other useful items. His weapons are leaned up against the tree trunk as a nearby creak—barely more than a trickle—drips down the way.
But that's not what has you so stunned. There were many things you were expecting to see today. Your children's smiles, your husband's love, Tryggr slumped face-down in alcohol, but certainly not this.
Stigmar crouches beside a truly gargantuan boulder—easily ten times his size!—and digs his fingers through well-used grooves in the dirt. Finding a grip on the underside of the mountain-chunk, he grits his teeth as his eyes screw shut and he lifts with all his very naked might.
Slabs of muscle bulge against the healthy layer of fat covering the bodies of all able-bodied Norsemen, showing against his skin as he pours his all into this effort. Sweat pours off his brow and down his back like a river from a cliff, his hair slick and stuck to his head like he'd just been swimming.
The boulder shudders and shakes as Stigmar's feet press against the ground so hard he leaves inch-deep indents in his wake—just two more in a sea of uniform shapes. Impossibly, for you know Stigmar lacks the strength for this feat, the boulder moves. It doesn't move high, or far, or even all that much, but yet he moves it. An inch, maybe two, off the ground, but yet he moves it.
The boulder hits the ground as Stigmar falls back, his chest rising and falling as he stares at the sky for a few long moments. Eventually, he staggers to his feet—his muscles clearly shivering and shaking from the effort—and drags himself over to the creak. Bending down, he scoops palmfuls of water into his mouth, drinking down it like Tryggr does booze.
Turning back to the tree, he reaches for a towel and the satchel—from which you smell the tell-tale hints of cheese, bread, and meat—as his eyes just so happen to drift your way.
He freezes, as do you, while Kare just looks bored. Stigmar looks down, then up, then down again before yelping in a rather undignified manner as the towel in hand swiftly wraps around his waist.
He coughs, cheeks blazing red as he struggles to look you in the eye, "I, uh, what're you doing here?"
"Looking for you," you offer an apologetic smile his way. Deciding to just spare the both of you any further embarrassment, you cut right to the chase, "Look, Lata wants to marry you and wants to know what you find attractive in a woman. So, what do you find attractive in a woman?"
Stigmar blinks, waits, then blinks again, "I, what?"
"Lata wants to know what you find attractive in a woman."
"Yeah, I gathered that part!" Stigmar's awkwardly plastered-on smile turns strained as he stares at you, "Lata wants to marry me?! But I'm..." he gesture lamely to himself and shrugs.
You and Kare exchange a glance as Kare sighs and rubs at his snout. Stepping in, he decides to have a crack at it, "Stigmar, look at me."
"...Yeah?"
Kare's golden eyes stay level with Stigmar's as he speaks calmly and clearly, "You are twice as strong as I was at your age. You have potential in spades. Do not put yourself down because Halla is Halla."
"I..." Stigmar sighs and shakes his head, "Alright, whatever, just...." He scratches at his beard as he stares off towards the rock, "I guess I find competency attractive? Like, knowing that someone is able to take care of themselves without needing me for every little thing sounds pretty nice to me."
"Right," you nod before wiggling a finger at Stigmar and the rock, "So... What are you doing, anyways?"
Stigmar rubs at the back of his neck, "Oh, well, I'm just... I get kind of embarrassed, when we're training as a group," his cheeks burn red again, "So, I well, I just kind of decided to go do it on my own? I guess?"
"Well, I guess that's fine," you finger the ends of your hair as you shrug, "Just, maybe you should do it closer to the house? We almost had a big fight today and we would've really missed you had it happened."
He blinks, eyes snapping wide as his muscles tense, readying for combat, "A fight?! What happened?"
"Just some guy came by," Kare interjects, waving it off with a flick of the paw, "Jogrim Foestep, a weird guy to say the absolute minimum."
"Right, well," Stigmar nods, "Sorry for not being there, then. I'll move my training spot closer in the future, just in case it happens again." He frowns, clearly unhappy with himself, "I think I've gotten complacent, without much of a threat coming by."
You're not really sure to say to that, so you bid him farewell and return home. Hopefully, what you've learned proves useful for Lata. Either way, you're eager for your bed.
It's been a long day.
0~0~0 Brother Bartholomew to Wessex
Bartholomew left for Wessex early that morning. Accompanied by Vagn Wheel-Drifter, Trygve Ironoath, and Hakon Thunderclap, it should be a fair few months before you see any of them again.
Regardless, you also sent along a letter to Gabriel telling him of Steinarr's death amongst other things—writing in English was quite difficult, but you persevered—as well as the sword Seeingsnow, who had refused to speak with you.
You also requested some books and sent along a handsome bundle of goods to serve as payment. As you don't quite know what's available, you left it up to your men to figure it out.
0~0~0 Talking to Abjorn
The conversation with Abjorn went as well as can be expected. He doesn't seem to particularly understand the reason behind you egging him on, but obliges nonetheless.
You can expect to see some results in the coming months.
0~0~0 Clammy Hands
The boy with the clammy hands smiles, big and wide, and promises to hunt a strong, virile buck as payment for the services rendered. A few days later, a fourteen-pronged deer arrives on your doorstep, fieldstripped and ready for use.
A week or two after that, a man comes by with a complaint of his own. After inviting him inside and having some food prepared for him, he reveals that his roof keeps leaking! No matter what he does, it just keeps leaking. He's tarred it, he's stacked hay, he's even entirely replaced the wood of his roof, but nothing seems to help!
He wants you to offer a solution.
What solution do you offer?
[ ] Write in a solution
0~0~0
[ ] Plan Name
-[ ] Write in what you wish to focus on
-[ ] Write in your first low-effort action
-[ ] Write in your second low-effort action
-[ ] Write in your extended action, if you desire to use it right now.
0~0~0
Training: You have 59 XP to spend as you see fit.
-[ ] Write in how you wish to spend it
0~0~0
-[ ] Work Options (Optional)
--[ ] Specify specific things
[X] Plan Well, Let's Kill Him
-[X] [Focus] Find, Ambush (in the Norse sense), and Kill Jogrim Foestep
--[X] Bring all available retainers, and any of our adult family members who want to come
--[X] See if we can ferret out any information first so we're better prepared
--[X] Make sure he's away from Griss Strongthrow's farm when we do this
-[X] Use Calling For Congress or other Fylgja use to get on the same page as Corpsemaker in terms of timing for taking care of Dorri
--[X] Take all available precautions to ensure privacy
-[X] (Crafting) Try to make something (1)
--[X] Reforge Ashen Kiss (+16 successes from Tools/Workshop)
--[X] Being careful to leave the intent of the current runes unaffected, and adding Crowfeeder's Runes
--[X] Adding wolf bone ash
--[X] Use Experience Forging to infuse it with our Lesson Of Fire Muna
--[X] Adding **1 Odr** to the crafting and add the Aspects to the runecraft roll
--[X] Attempt to use Frenzy on crafting rolls, attempting to achieve a state of focus via hashish if we can't manage it otherwise. Have a spotter to make sure we eat and drink while doing this.
--[X] Quench the blade in a potion made to enhance its heat involving hearthroot oil, **1 Odr**, and various things associated with flame and heat.
-[X] (Crafting) Try to make something (2)
--[X] Silver And Gold Torc for Abjorn (+16 successes from Tools/Workshop)
--[X] Use bear bone ash
--[X] Add runes saying "Let no trick serve to escape my wearer's grasp."- Hopefully magically prevents magical effects that would free people from his grapples
--[X] Use Experience Forging to infuse it with our First Kiss Under A Falling Tree Muna
-[X] Special Note: On all Crafting add the following if possible unless otherwise specified:
--[X] Using Sundersight (+1d3 Successes)
--[X] Burning Frami, Virthing, and Saemd (for +1 Success each, +3 successes total) to enhance the crafting process
-[X] (Training) Hamr (511 xp to rank up)
--[X] Train Combat Skill 6xp (3xp)
-[X] (Training) Hugr (255 xp to rank up)
--[X] Train Time Stands Still 72xp (36xp)
--[X] Train Inertia-Arresting-Throw 36 xp (18xp)
--[X] Train Standstill 36xp (18xp)
-[X] (Work Options)
--[X] Make 10 Restful Clay Cups and 2 Alarm Charms (4 Work)
--[X] Write A Poem – Niflheim, spending **7 Odr** (3 Work)
---[X] If we manage to make Frenzy work on our crafting, use the same methods on the poetry
--[X] Make 9 Superior Shields w/Bog Iron Rims for Retainers (9 Work)
--[X] Find out what gossip has to say on Magni Little-Rock (1 Work)
--[X] Get information on Jogrim Foe-Step and his people (1 Work)
-[X] (Incidentals)
--[X] Infuse **16 Odr** into Wordplay
--[X] Adding Taafl Board Capacity Gains to: Halla,
--[X] Receiving Metal from Dwarves: 24 oz Forged Iron, 6 oz Dusty Iron,
0~0~0
Time Stands Still (Mastered-Perfected)
Inertia-Arresting-Throw (Refined-Mastered)
Standstill 7-8
0~0~0 Ambushing Jogrim Foestep
Light dances across iron as the hammer rises. Red-hot metal warps under the falling weight as it bends the knee to the craftsman's touch. Again and again, the strength of the smith conquers the barren wastelands and forces those once proud nodes of sturdy ore to submit to the all-encompassing will of creation.
You wipe your brow as yet one more shield receives a band of strong iron, further strengthening it against the blows of your foes. Wrapping hide tight around the surface, you set the shield aside as you take the next in hand and set to work once more.
As the hammer lifts for the umpteenth time, your mind's course drifts to the purpose of shields. A shield is meant to keep its holder safe, but from what? Enemy weapons, of course, but who would be the holders of such fell blades?
Jogrim Foestep, and his men. Those are the hands that would hold the swords, spears, and axes your shields would stop. You intend to kill him, and, should the Norns deem it so, hopefully he'll stay dead.
Killing someone, however, is no simple task. Rushing in blind is how one ends up dead, as so many Sagas can attest. To kill a man requires patience, cunning, and a sense of urgency. Too many men are content to wait for the most opportune moment while never realizing that the moment in question has already passed them by. Taking risks, being bold, that is the mark of a dreng. But a dreng does not take unnecessary risks, for he knows well that which is at stake. He engages when the odds are on his side, fearless and willing to meet his end should it be so written.
Information is key when considering killing. As such, you've spent considerable time gathering data and converting it into usable intel. What do you know about Jogrim Foestep and his men? Not a lot, all things considered, but what you do know is that he doesn't seem to like his brother-in-law all that much—or, at least, he has a disliking of Griss Strongthrow's home. With that in mind, it's likely that he won't be spending much in the way of time at Griss' house, so he'll be looking to return to Jurgdby as soon as possible. As you'd rather not attack Jogrim while he's at Griss' farm nor while he's at his home—as both give him certain annoying advantages, such as, but not limited to, a highly defensible position—that leaves only one window of opportunity to make your move: when Jogrim is in transit.
Because of that, you've sent the fylgjur of your men to take up observation positions on the routes most likely to be taken. Jogrim doesn't strike you as someone who'd venture beyond the trodden paths, so it isn't likely he'd be cautious enough to rough it through the wilderness—especially as he's unaware of your intentions.
With watchers all in place, you turn your attention towards the next steps in the plan. While you outnumber Jogrim and his men, it isn't enough to make certain of anything. The Sagas, after all, are full of outnumbered warriors breaking free and turning the slaughter around on their enemies. You'll have to be careful if you don't want to end up the same way. As such, you've sent word out to your friends and allies, asking them to fight alongside you on this day.
Your numbers bolstered by the fighting strength of Halfdan, his family, their respective retainers, and your brothers, the next part of the plan is to research the capabilities of your enemies. In the weeks since you first came up with the plan, you've spent your time doing just that. As such, you've assembled quite the array of information.
Jogrim Foestep, a former Kyrsviking, earned his kenning when he, in the heat of battle, drove a toe-shattering stomp to the foot of a foe before slaying him on the spot. He is said to be adept at adapting to his opponents and has a fondness for throwing his weapons should the situation call for it. An intelligent fighter with a habit of avoiding traps and trickery, there are few who can pull the wool over his eyes.
He is said to wield a dust hugareida with great skill and precision, though its raw power is somewhat lacking. He has been seen using his dust hugareida to generate explosions amongst other such techniques. For his Martial Styles, he is in possession of three. They are the Mirror Waltz, Shattering Scream, and, as is the case of all Norsemen, Glima.
For his men, they have a large smattering of skillsets and other hugareida. Some wield fire, others wield water, and one—Kjallakr Grassroots, Jogrim's right hand man—bears both 'mud' and 'plant' hugareida. Glima is universal amongst Jogrim's warriors, as is the case for your own, while Mirror Waltz, Shattering Scream, and Glass Shard are also common thanks to the lot being former Kyrsvikingar. Their skill level varies, but Kjallakr is the strongest without a doubt.
A wielder of fleinn, Kjallakr Grassroots is a man to keep an eye on in the fight, for he is said to throw spears with the strength of Thor himself. He is a user of the Siegeworks style, which allows him to throw things with incredible force and accuracy, and is likely to be a pain in the rear should he be allowed to use his style to the fullest extent.
The hammer falls one last time, the iron warped to the desired shape, and you cool the red-hot material in a vat of ice-cold water—kept cold by a lining of cooling clay. Gazing upon the finished work, a small smile spreads across your face as the image of failing weapons flashes before your mind's eye. It's good work you've done here, there's no doubt about that!
It's as you stretch skin over the surface that a noise at the door catches your attention. Sticking his head in, Eysteinn Egilsson scans the smoke-filled workshop before coming to a rest on you. "Jogrim's moving," Eysteinn's face flickers into a frown as he keeps speaking, "but... there's a complication."
"How so?" To hear of a problem isn't surprising, but the look on Eysteinn's face is. Stacking the shield atop the pile of its kinsmen, you turn your full attention on the young man.
"It's... Well," he takes a deep breath, luckily avoiding the smoke in the process, "Griss sent along three of his men to see Jogrim off."
"Is Griss there? How strong are they?" As far as you know, Griss is the only one of his fighting strength on his farm, so three more enemies shouldn't be too much of a problem as long as he's not among them.
"He's not, no," Eysteinn shakes his head and sighs, "but Gorm Bloodslick, Holger Trip, and Snorri Deepsleeper are."
That, however, gives you fresh pause as a frown tugs at your face. That's another one of the reasons you decided against attacking Griss' farm, as you know a fair portion of his men on a personal level. All three of those men are men you've fought alongside, men you've killed with, men you've even worked to save.
For a moment, a flicker of worry passes through your heart as you wonder at that selection. Could it be calculated? Could Griss and, by extension, Jogrim have somehow caught wind of your plans and selected those men in particular to put a wrinkle in?
No, it's much more likely that those three men are simply the strongest in Griss' employ and, as such, are sent to ensure Jogrim's safety. Worrying about if they do or don't know is paranoia, for if they did they'd probably just go through the wilderness and give you the slip. Unless, of course, they wanted to take you on, but Jogrim seemed quite intelligent to you and taking you on would be a fool's errand, not something a cunning man would do.
Tightening your jaw, you offer a nod to Eysteinn, "Tell the men to make ready and a messenger to Sten and Halfdan telling them the same. We'll give the uninvolved a chance to leave and for the involved to make amends, but after that it's on them."
Eysteinn swallows and nods, a flicker of worry passing through his eye before his head disappears with the closing of the door. You sigh as his footsteps fade into the background, the wooden door muffling the noise.
'Life is never easy,' Blackhand's words are like that of a cooling forge, grim in the face of the inevitable, 'the Norns would have it no other way.'
-~-~-
Sten and Eric are the first to arrive at the ambush site, after you and your men, of course. The ambush point was selected in a hurry, so it has a few flaws but none too severe. The lack of rocks automatically makes this place poor fighting ground and it's a little bit too close to Asvir for your comfort, but it's also the only acceptable place for an ambush given the need to make ready and wait for your allies to appear.
The well-trodden path cuts through the outer Hading and, as such, is lightly bordered with young trees and thick underbrush. The route curls around the side of a large, mossy boulder, which provides the perfect vantage point for both archers and for you to stand prominently.
A grumpy grumble passes Sten's lips as he lays eyes on the shields on your men's arms. "I was planning on bringing some shields, but I knew I shouldn't have bothered."
Your brows furrow at that, but you're not given any time to respond as Halfdan arrives mere moments later. Halfdan stands at the head of his group with an atgeir in hand and mail on his body. Following in his wake are his two of his three sons, Jordan and Joarr, alongside three of his six retainers, the rest having been left at home alongside Jon just in case things go horribly wrong.
Halfdan strides up to you and offers a respectful nod your way, his eyes roaming across the future fighting ground, "A good afternoon for spilling blood, Halla, but let's hope it's none of our own."
"Let's hope," you mutter in response as your instincts start firing and your heart starts hammering. There's no time for pleasantries, so you get right down to business. "I'm going to stand up on this rock with the archers," you lay a pat upon the stone while directing a finger towards the bushes and trees, "while you and the others wait in the woods. When I call out to Jogrim and they stop, you'll reveal yourselves and surround them."
Halfdan nods and lays his atgeir on his shoulder, "That sounds like a solid plan, but are we giving them time to negotiate or just getting stuck in?"
A frown creases your lips, "I think it best we give the uninvolved an opportunity to leave."
"A good idea, I reckon," Halfdan's lips pull back in a smile as he whistles for his men before heading towards the trees. As he walks past you, you can't help but catch a glimpse of the axe on his belt—an axe matching the wound on the back of the Witch's skull.
You're given no time to think, however, as the sound of approaching footsteps echoes in your ears and your heart starts hammering like you were still in the forge. Quickly leaping atop the hill, your men fan out and take positions in the trees as you settle in to wait.
You don't have to wait long, thankfully, as a dozen armed foes soon emerge. At the head of the pack is none other than Jogrim Foestep, who slows to a halt as soon as he sees you atop the rock. Lifting his chin with his voice, he calls out to you with narrowed eyes and tense muscles, "Greetings, Halla Sunshine. I'd say it's pleasant to see you again, but I can't help but notice the armor on your body and the weapon in your hands. I trust that your ire is in no way directed at me or my men?"
Sucking down a deep breath, you call out in response, "Your trust is misplaced, Jogrim Foestep, for you and I are enemies on this day."
Fear flashes in the faces of Gorm, Holger, and Snorri as they realize what's about to happen. Jogrim's eyes dart from side-to-side as your warriors reveal themselves and quickly surround the now-trapped men. Recognition, betrayal, and thinned lips cross the faces of both your men and Griss' as blades once friendly turn hostile.
"I see," Jogrim's face is grim as he cracks his neck and loosens up his shoulders, "so it has come to this, has it? I'd thought your reputation misplaced, but it's clear to see that I was wrong."
"My reputation has nothing to do with this, Jogrim Foestep," you swipe a hand through the air, dismissing his words with a flick of the wrist, "for it was your actions that brought this upon you."
"And what, pray tell, did I do to deserve such treachery?" Jogrim demands as he fastens his mail-necked helmet upon his head, an action copied by most of his men behind him.
"It is not what you did, but who you did it to," you respond as you direct a pointing finger towards your farm far in the distance. "You said it yourself when you visited, that you raided among the Slavs for a time. Those people you raided, that you took as Thralls, are now in my service as free men and women, but the stain of Thrallhood still lurks on their saga-slates, slates that can be cleaned only by your death."
"So that's why I felt such hatred from the wolf-headed one," Jogrim mutters as he sends a stare Kare's way.
"I have no quarrel with the uninvolved," you wave your atgeir towards Gorm, Holger, and Snorri, "and they may leave freely if they so desire it. Your men, however, are not so lucky. Should they wish to go free, ransom must be paid with their arms and armor."
In the silence that follows, it's broken by Gorm Bloodslick as he steps forward with an answer to your words, "We thank you for your offer, Halla of the Hading," he takes a deep breath as the fear in his eyes falls away to cold determination, "but I and my friends gave our words that we'd see Jogrim safely to Asvir."
Your jaw tightens at that, but you stay firm as you breathe out a shaky, stuttering breath, "I see."
"Before we begin the killing, I have a question to ask," Jogrim calls out once more as he draws spear and shrugs free shield. Point the spear your way, he levels his voice just as he levels his question, "If the honor of your Slavs is worth defending to such an extent, why is it that I see none of their faces here among my enemies? Surely if a woman as renowned as yourself feels the need to defend their honor, so too would they, no? Even the lowly rat strikes boldly when the wolf gives it a chance at the cat, but there are not but wolves and lions on this day."
Your response?
[ ] Write in
0~0~0
(Tactics: 17+14) 31 Successes, damn
Like the map of a well-travelled land, the plans of friend and foe alike unfold before your sights.
Amongst the plans of your friends and foes, a select few stand out to your eyes.
-Kare plans to engage with Jogrim as quickly as possible, which might be difficult as he'll have to cut through two men to do so.
-Kjallakr means to turn the ground to mud—while leaving the ground he and his allies are standing on dry—as well as restricting the movements of your men with vines and roots. He'll also be hurling his fleinn at anything he deems 'important'.
-Stigmar is going to do his best to protect you, which is going to be a problem as that puts him directly in the path of Jogrim, who is intending to blow the rock you and the archers stand upon to smithereens.
-After doing that, Jogrim's planning on throwing his spear at you—or any other opportune foe— before drawing his sword and throwing himself at you and the dazed archers, hoping to take you out as quickly as he can.
He and his men know they're at a severe disadvantage, but they're hoping that their abilities can turn the tide enough to win the day. Unfortunately for them, they're up against you.
Endurance: (19/19) | Frenzy: (8/8) (+8 to all Combat Rolls) | Armor: (21/21) (+9 to Defense Rolls)
Orthstirr: (65/65) | Odr: (43)
( ) Frami: 22 | ( ) Virthing: 22 | ( ) Saemd: 21
Your Combat Dice Pool for Basic Moves is 8d6
What do you do?
[ ] Plan Name
-[ ] Goal: Write in
-[ ] Tricks: Write in up to Capacity (12)
-[ ] Orthstirr: Write in
0~0~0
AN: And there we go. Feel free to ask questions.
No moratorium, as it is getting a little bit late.
[X] "Those you have wronged are no warriors, mostly women and children, in truth. If your sister was wronged, would you want Griss to bring her along to seek vengeance against a man like you, a Third Grade Berserk who has shown no compunction about attacking and enthralling a woman? What of one of your retainers wives or daughters kidnapped away into thralldom and then freed, would you bring her into the din of battle to no purpose? Or children no more than seven winters old? Those are the sort of people in my service who you have wronged. It is the place of warriors in their household to avenge slights against those who are no warriors, as some are not."
[X] Plan Directly Help Kare
-[X] Orders: Tell Stigmar to take to the air with us and the archers to abandon the rocks, have Magni and Trausti secure our men's footing against mud with their Hugareida and grab Eysteinn and Tryggr and go to keep Griss's men busy while trying not to kill them, ask Abjorn to go handle Kjallakr and keep him from being a problem with his ranged and area-of-effect abilities (using his flight item to close), and bring Stigmar along with us and Kare to force our way through to Jogrim.
-[X] Goal: Take to the air and personally target Jogrim using Flashfire Cleave trying to use Dead Air to suppress his and other uses of Shattering Scream, while wrecking his armor and using our disabling Tricks to set him up for Kare to kill him. If he uses Mirror Waltz to return attacks at us, that's when we use Contested Movement to counter that effect and wreck his armor or disable him as appropriate.
-[X] Shapeshifts: Adrenaline Rush x5, Dense Muscles x2, Increased Lung Capacity x1, Strengthened Bone Structure x1, Supported Grip x1,
-[X] Utility Tricks: Ember-Winged Cloak, Dead Air (adding **1 Odr**),
-[X] Defensive Tricks: Reinforce Shield, Explosive-Reactive Armor, Slowing Slog, Stutter-Step, Contested Movement (17d6+16 including minimal Stoked Pool), Semi-Halting Vortex (to deal with multiple simultaneous attacks), Time Stands Still (only in an emergency, such as to defend against another Finale),
-[X] Offensive Tricks: Devouring Blaze, Flashfire Cleave, Shatter-Wrist Trick, Stunner Slam, Tendon Cut,
-[X] Orthstirr: 20 Levels
-[X] Stoked Pool: Burn at least 8 on each Contested Movement, and make sure to keep the total below 63 by using it either there or on Stoker State Tricks.
-[X] Other: Activating Sharpen, Stoker State Level 4, Lightning-Charged on Sagaseeker, and Puncture on Tricks, and use quick-drawn Shields as needed for defense (especially against ranged attacks like Fleinns, and we will only use Stutter Step if this is not an option). Using Sundersight.
0~0~0
"None of the Slavs are warriors, mostly women and children," your words ring out in answer across the would-be battlefield as silence reigns supreme. All eyes fall on you as you speak, "If your sister had been wronged, would you have Griss bring her along to seek vengeance against a man like yourself? A Third Grade Berserk?" You shake your head and sigh, plucking at a slightly different thread, "What if one of your retainer's wives or daughters were kidnapped away and then freed? Would you bring her or children no more than seven winters old into battle, to face off with a man more powerful than any they'd seen before?"
After a moment's thought, the wind whistles as Jogrim lifts his head to look you in the steely eye, "But we are not talking of women and children, we are speaking of men, of warriors." A finger points towards the sky as Jogrim sets his jaw and plants his feet, "I ask you of the one called Kazimir, a man absent among your ranks. A real man, a dreng, should be willing to die for his honor. Even if he lacked the courage to fight me himself, he should've still shown up!" Spreading his arms wide, his voice booms across the battlefield like a storm looming on the horizon, "If a man is meant to die, then there is no saving him! If a man is meant to live, then no arrows will find their mark nor will swords cut flesh! A real man should be willing to die for his honor, for he knows his death is certain either way!"
As Jogrim's words flee his mouth and his jaw snaps shut, three things happen at once. Born of a thousand hours of fighting together, side by side, Jogrim and Kjallakr's arms swing up with hugareida sparking to life in a shower of blue and green orthstirr. Just as they act, Kare's lips peel back into a growl as his naked sword darts forward like lightning across the sky. (Attack: 23+42=65 vs Defense: 18+15=33, Attacker Wins! 8+4(Wolf)+3-3=12 Damage!)
Neck's blood paints Kare red as he advances past the falling body. Time trickles into slow motion as the Berserk next in line from the now dead man twists and lifts his weapons in defense. Kare growls, teeth and snout coated in the deadman's lifeblood, as the horns of Ragnarok roar loose around you.
Moving like Garm was on his heels, Jogrim's palm fills with dust as a wave of the stuff washes out. Filling the distance between him and the boulder in an instant, a grinding sound flees the mass of silty gray as a single spark flies free from the friction of grain-on-grain.
Red fire reflects in an ocean of steel as your eyes widen to their limits.
And then, nothing.
You blink, a motion mirrored by Jogrim, as the both of you stare confused at the arrow as it carves through the explosion, rendering it ultimately harmless. The arrow rattles against the ground, bouncing once, twice, then rolling to a stop at the foot of the boulder.
A loud swallow pulls your gaze to the side, to where Joarr Halfdansson stands staring at his bow. Brows raised in utter surprise, he's as shocked as you are at what just happened.
Jogrim shakes his head, ridding himself of the shock and slight awe that left him so rattled, and resumes his fighting stance just as you do the same. Locking eyes with your foe, you drive a foot into the ground and throw yourself into the air at full speed. The boulder rocks back from the force of your launch, sending the archers atop it scrambling for balance—a slight mistake, you realize, but one you can't rectify in the middle of a fight. (H1Trick Attack: 34+39+20=93 vs Defense: 31+36+25=92, Attacker Wins! Shield Sacrifice!)
Fire streaks from the blade of Sagaseeker as you hurtle across the sky like a meteor. Thunder cracks as you swing with all your might mere heartbeats before you hit the ground. Like a tidal wave, you crash against the rocks that are Jogrim's defense. His teeth grind together as his shield buckles beneath the impact, but he and his shield stand strong regardless.
One of Jogrim's men sees his chance and takes it. Racing forwards with sword held in both hands, the man lunges with all his might, only for the sudden appearance of a shield to stop it dead in its tracks!
While it's nothing that you'd have struggled against, it still would've stolen attention away from Jogrim, which could very well be a lethal mistake in this kind of fighting. With Stigmar singlehandedly holding any potential would-be helpers at bay, you're able to put all your strength towards ending the life of Jogrim.
But despite yourself, there's a certain sense in the back of your head, a certain voice whispering traitorous thoughts. As Jogrim pulls back to make his play, you can't help but feel that this is not your fight. No matter how hard you battle, how mighty your efforts, you won't be ending Jogrim on this day. Wound, almost certainly. Kill, it's a possibility. End? Not a chance.
Your eyes fall across the battlefield, to the person meant to slay the man before you. Kare Wolf-Seek trades blow after blow with the Berserk before him, his previous foe collapsed to the ground and choking on his own blood. Kare's sword clatters against bronze-rimmed shield as the Spear-Berserk pushes back, throwing Kare off his feet as one of Halfdan's men rushes forwards to take his place. The exchange is short, bloody, and brutal, with Halfdan's man bleeding from the kneecap and gasping around a punctured lung in a handful of heartbeats. Halfdan himself steps in to drag his man away from the fighting, all while warding away another pair of the Berserks.
A rabid, frenzied howl rips across the fighting ground as one of the Berserks enters Berserkergang and memories of Hooknails flash across your mind, but you're given no time to react as Jogrim jabs forth with spear in hand. Lightning wraps around the Storm Iron spear-blade as it carves through the air, the smell of burnt ozone sharp in your nose. (J2Attack: 18+26+25=69 vs Defense: 25+31+20=76, Defender Wins!)
Skin singes from just how close the shock-wrapped spear passes to your face, but you pull yourself aside just in time to catch the attack on your helm. Eyeing your foe with new appreciation, your dig your heels into the ground and throw yourself into an attack of your own. (H2Attack: 30+39+20=89 vs Defense: 37+36+25=98, Defender Wins!)
Fire sparks in your palm as Jogrim reacts just in time. A perfectly time duck sends the burst of flame sailing clear into the distance. Striking against a tree trunk, a spray of splinters is all the reward of your strength.
Jogrim's hide-wrapped feet strike against the ground as he rides the momentum into a spear thrust. Lightning arcs as the spear flies free, bolts frying the ground beneath its passage. (J3Attack: 33+26+25=84 vs Defense: 27+31+20=78, Attacker Wins! Shield Sacrifice!)
A flick of the wrist draws a shield from soul-storage as Jogrim's eyes narrow from behind his helmet. As his spear impacts with the hide-bound wood, a twist of the spear sends forth a shower of sharp shards of glass. Raining down against your shield, it shreds the hide while digging deep pockmarks in the wood, rendering it effectively useless as Jogrim wrenches the spear free for another pass.
But you don't let him. Sensing an opportunity, you toss your ruined shield aside, take hold of Sagaseeker with both hands, and drive your next blow not towards Jogrim, but his spear. (H3Attack: 28+39+20=87 vs Defense: 39+36+25=100, Defender Wins!)
Pulling his spear back just in time, he manages to avoid Sagaseeker's ire only to set himself up perfectly for your next attack. Jogrim's shield is of a very good quality and it's doing more than enough to annoy you, but Jogrim is too good of a fighter to just let you batter away at it. He ducks and dodges, weaving around your strikes as you try to lock him down. Pulling his spear back leaves him slightly off-balance, but the same also applies to you and Sagaseeker.
However, you've got strengthened wrists thanks to your shapeshifting prowess, meaning you can recover far quicker than Jogrim can. Bringing your superior speed to bear, you dart forwards with orthstirr coating your weapon in your crimson hue. (H4Trick Attack: 38+42+20=100 vs Defense: 29+36+25=90, Attacker Wins! Shield Sacrifice Negated by Trick! Wrist Broken!)
The shield does its job by protecting Jogrim from your weapon. What it doesn't, do, however, is protect him from the surge of orthstirr drilling through the linen-bound wood and directly into his wrist.
A sharp snap rings out as his shield slips free from suddenly limp fingers and falling to the ground. Stumbling back, Jogrim grips his teeth as his broken wrist musters what strength it still has, his weakened hand managing to just about draw the sword from his hip.
In the time it took for him to do that, however, your superior speed once more rearing its fearsome head as you hound him across the killing grounds.
It is said that a man without a shield is a dead man and, though you have your qualms with that message, it isn't entirely wrong. A shield provides you with the opportunity to make mistakes that don't cost you life or limb. It's a comforting presence on the battlefield, an assurance against danger. To suddenly lack it is a shock to the sense and a blow to the morale. More than a few men have turned tail and fled at the breaking of their shield, you've seen it yourself on many a battleground.
Pulling Sagaseeker back for another powerful blow, you aim to see just how true that saying is as Jogrim prepares to receive your strike. (H5Attack: 27+39+20=86 vs Defense: 33+30+25=88, Defender Wins!)
Sagaseeker sends sparks flying as he screeches across Jogrim's helm as he barely dodges out of the way. Jogrim's leg snaps out, driving against the ground as he grits his teeth and fills his lungs to the fullest. As his mouth opens wide, you realize exactly what he's about to do. (J4 Trick Attack: 27+37+25=89 vs Trick Defense: 31+31+20=82, Attacker Wins! Defender Stunned!)
You muster the wind to your will and direct it in defense, but Dead Air was never meant for defense—let alone against sound itself.
Your ears cry out in pain as your eyes screw shut and your hands clap against the side of your head. Though Dead Air failed to protect you from the Shattering Scream, in the instant before your eyelids fell, you saw that it managed to keep your friends safe from the blast. (J5 Trick Attack vs Stunned Defense, Attacker Auto-Wins! Reinforce Shield!)
If it weren't for your good thinking before the battle even began, your armor would've just taken significant damage. Fortunately, you're a rather intelligent person, so you made certain that your armor had a healthy serving of Reinforce Shield to keep it safe. It was that trick that kept you safe and it was that trick that allowed you to back off and regain your bearings.
The battle is still up in the air, as there has been blood on both sides, but you have the advantage so far. Notable events are as follows:
Kjallakr, it turns out, had imbibed blood of some manner of mud beast. Unfortunately for him, Abjorn is used to dealing with foes made of malleable substances—thanks to his spars with you—and knew just how to get around such a defense: namely, hit them faster than they can shift. Abjorn managed to break Kjallakr's elbow before he turned the ground to mud, but the arm turned to mud before Abjorn could rip it off the bastard. Still, Kjallakr is more than on the back foot with Abjorn in hot pursuit.
Trausti caught a spear-throw early in the fight—which entered through his palm and out of his elbow—and had to pull back as his right hand had been rendered useless. Healing with an Aspect, he'll be back in the thick of it in the next stage of combat thanks to Tryggr keeping him safe from any further danger, though Tryggr wasn't able to engage Griss' men.
Jordan and Eric fought together to keep any more foes from getting in Kare's way, managing to wound three in the process.
Kurt, with a blow that surprised everyone around him including himself, managed to cleave a Berserk's shoulder clean off his body. Of course, that immediately threw the Berserk into Berserkergang, but with only the one arm, Kurt was able to fend off the powerful blows as Sten bounds across the battlefield, aiming to lend him aid in the next stage of combat.
Halfdan's men, unfortunately, each fell after taking sword, axe, and spear blows to vital organs. Halfdan, in a show of surprising agility, managed to fend off any opportunistic attackers while dragging his men to safety. Healing with their Aspects, they'll be back in the next round of the battle.
Alvis nearly fell off the boulder after you kicked it, but Joarr's timely actions managed to pull him back just before he did.
-~-~-
You definitely have the advantage in your battle with Jogrim, though that was never in doubt. Now wielding a weapon in either hand, he'll be making his attacks quicker than before and, judging from his body language, he'll be pouring on the pressure next round. As best you can tell, he's going to be stoking one of his Aspects and using that, plus the rest of his Orthstirr supply, in the next round.
He's aiming to try and take you alive, so he can force the rest of your men and allies to back away under threat of your death. Kare will either be through with his foe this round or the next after, but he'll be through soon enough.
Sundersight Reading:
-Jogrim used half of his orthstirr supply—barring his Aspects—in the initial round and will likely either be reining it back or using an Aspect to keep up the pressure. He won't be able to keep up this pace for longer than a small handful of rounds.
-He's overly reliant on having support to back him up in fights, meaning that he's at something of a loss here as Stigmar is single-handedly keeping any support from reaching him.
(He's using ~35–40 Orthstirr in the next round)
Endurance: (19/19) | Frenzy: (8/8) (+8 to all Combat Rolls) | Armor: (21/21) (+9 to Defense Rolls)
Orthstirr: (45/65) | Odr: (43)
( ) Frami: 22 | ( ) Virthing: 22 | ( ) Saemd: 21
Your Combat Dice Pool for Basic Moves is 8d6
What do you do?
[ ] Plan Name
-[ ] Goal: Write in
-[ ] Tricks: Write in up to Capacity (14)
-[ ] Orthstirr: Write in
0~0~0
AN: Sorry for this taking so long to get out. For whatever reason, I've been suffering from insomnia for the past couple days and that's been screwing with me something fierce.
