NorseQuest: Collective Edition (Group-Based Xianxia Settlement-Builder)

[weeblypanda]

Deep as the Abyss pt. 1​

'This can't be happening!' Valo thought, 'By Njord, this must be a dream!' as he sunk deeper into the domain of his ancestor.

Before today the ocean was the path to glory, it was the great mirror to his beloved sky, and now it was how he would die. That was before the Jomsvikings appeared out of nowhere/finally arrived. We had known they were coming./No, that's not true! Yet Blackhand did nothing./how is this-. Power draws challengers and there are no more famous adventurous, glory-seeking challengers than the Jomsvikings. Perhaps that was why there were raid trails today? Were we preparing for them? Had they simply come far earlier than expected?

'It matters not,' Valo thinks as the cloying depths took him. 'I die, with no honor, no weapon in hand, having been blown overboard having not even gone raiding.'

Just as his eyes close a hand grasps his collar. They shoot open again.
'Vidar!' Valo realizes. Looking over his shoulders he sees him, Vidar Icebreaker, his elder brother had saved him.

Vidar was a young Gute hero, made in the spitting image of their Godly ancestor Njord. An accomplished raider, with a powerfully built yet sleek build, hair blonde and salty white, beard as full as the greatest among them. Vidar often led his own expeditions out toward Tarkhan but he had once been chosen to go raiding with Blackhand himself. Vidar was known as a strong swimmer having even cut through an iceberg in a race to win in spectacular fashion.

"Come now brother, you've yet even to see true battle! You're not ready to join the Aesir among the stars you so love! We have to get back to the ships" Vidar says as you break the surface.

Valo coughs up mouthfuls of seawater as Vidar drags him swimming as hard as he can toward his ship. As he catches his breath, he sees Gotland's burning, sinking form in the distance.

"Brother you've got to help out or we'll not catch up!"

Vidar's words cut through stupor/pain/anguish/shock/horror…focusing Valo on the act of survival. If they did not catch up to the ships they would drown and join the Draugr, or be eaten by Joton or some passing Sea monster. He was running low on Ordstirr, and so stoked his Frami. Using his Kin-finding trick from his Guiding Light Kunna he and Vidar made great progress toward their contingent of fleeing ships.

"Almost there, brother! Almost there! Just a little while longer!" Vidar said.

With effort, they got to the final stretch to reach the ship. Their father Halvar Sunshaft throws out a length of rope for them to catch. Yet as Valo successfully grabs it he hears a roar of pain.

Turing he sees a gleaming harpoon head sticking through his brother's chest green ordstirr still coating it. The Jomsviking Snekkja had caught up!/What?! That wasn't there before! Vidar grabs Valo's as the harpoon's tether line goes taught. Valo wails in anguish as his body is subjected to a tug-of-war. He looks forward and sees his father desperately reeling in his sons. He looks back and sees his brother's face wet from the sea, stained by blood running out of his mouth, from the tears he's shedding.

"Sorry little brother. Looks like I won't be able to take you on your first raid after aAARRGH!" Vidar says as Valo once more feels his body threatening to be torn, desperately holding onto the rope for dear life.

"I was hoping to use this trick to slay a serpent or chase down some sinking treasure but I guess I'll improvise." Vidar says with a wry, blood-stained smile, "Promise you'll watch my last deed brother."

Valo can only shake his head no as he goes to reach a hand for his brother.

"You've got to promise me, Valo! Please."

Another pull, another tearing sensation, another scream rings out, and a pair of hands let go.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A/N. First omake on the site, feedback would be appreciated.

 

[KittyEmpress]

Eirny Khairsdotter - Round 1 Omake

The ride from their homes was one of quiet distance. Eirny did not gather with the other Gutes to mourn their home. She simply stared on at the gathering of those who survived, an odd distance kept from all others. Her eyes open, watching, but never interacting.

Eirny was not a hateful woman - she held no disdain to her fellow Gutes, despite her family's distance from them. But she also did not feel in her heart the camaraderie that filled some of the survivors. She had survived her winters on this world without friends, and as her tears turned to dust over the loss of her parents... she was not in the mood to make them. Indeed, she wanted nothing more than to be alone.

Eirny Khairsdotter was many things, but someone who made plans was not one. Cleverness was never her blessing - for it was clear to most that to go alone in a foreign, mysterious land was to invite death. And yet with only her father's blade in hand, she left the protection of the makeshift settlement. Seeking distance. Seeking solitude.

And finding danger in such a search. The creature that stood before her was like none she had ever seen. Like a lizard but larger, with a mouth full of serrated blades. It had found her in the same moment she found it - it's current meal already on the floor, torn apart by the many blades it's mouth hosted.

The switch flipped in Eirny's head. And her mother faded from her mind. Her father no longer existed in her thoughts. Her grief left her body. All her thoughts of being alone, of wanting to be apart, all of everything she was faded into the background for the moment, as her hand twitched towards her blade.

The monster jumped through the air before Eirny could react. Or it should have.

And yet it bled before it could jump, skin parting to give way to a spray of the liquid lifeforce. Blade met skin in an upward slashing motion that carried the woman forward.

The blade's slash was shallow as it appeared under the creature's eye. The attempt to blind it had failed, but the cut still causing the beast to howl in fear and pain as it landed, it's attempted pounce for the two legged beings throat thrown off by the sudden pain. Instead it landed a clawed gash on her as it flew past - her movements not fast enough to avoid it, despite the apparent speed of her strike.

The next strike came as Eirny righted herself to hold her blade properly, a simple cut that sought throat-vitals. She may not know what the creature is, but sword itself guided her hand. There was no intent besides the intent to sever - but the creature was far from defenseless - or stupid. It avoided the blade, jumping back with it's powerful legs.

But blades were meant to cut through flesh, not air. And the sword followed it - Eirny followed it.

And blood exploded from it still, as the meaning to cut reached it - but not enough. Not enough to sever it's head from body, to suffocate it, or destroy its ability to move. Only another shallow cut, drawing blood from where she had intended to behead.

But a predator does not fight to the death. Every wound is an assurance of death. Every bit of blood a guarantee of a harder day. It had already almost finished it's meal - the large mammal it had turned into a bloody mess showing more bone than meat. And so it ran. Without hesitation, without time for Eirny to call it a coward.

Not that the woman spoke when in the midst of a battle. The entire time even her breathing eerily quiet.

-----

The view from above of the battle was, in some ways, reminiscent of a battle by a high grade Berserk. Eirny's body seemed to move, to react, to her enemy's movements before they had moved. As the troodon attempted to jump, a slashing motion unsheathed the blade to near-perfectly match the dinosaur passing through what should have been open air. As she attempted her beheading motion, her legs kicked off the ground before the dinosaur's attempted retreat from the slashing motion had even been indicated by its body, only her leg's insufficient power keeping her from catching it accurately.

And yet, unlike with even a Berserk, her movements flowed along a simple, optimal pathway. Each stroke of the blade intended to kill, not to maim or weaken, even though the young girl herself was incapable of landing such an intent. For now.

-----

A sudden gasp for air, as sensation flooded back, as thoughts formed in full once more. As she looked at her bleeding wounds on her arm. At the blood on the edge of her father's shamshir. "Father, I may need the blessings of your God, alongside those of our own." She spoke to her blade, as if the man himself resided within it.

The half-Norse woman did not know where she was. But the thought of surviving it alone disappeared from her. She turned back towards the makeshift settlement.

Now was not the time for grieving.


------

Not my best work. But i wanted to get something done tonight. Sword stepping is weird, i hope i captured some of it in this, sort of accurately.

since she's still at a low level of it, I've chosen to manifest her 'cutting is a continuous motion' as a sort of pre-movement. At higher ranks I'll start portraying it more fully as the esoteric art is is.

 

[Nando]

Liv stares off into the distance.

"Wind swept,
far flung,
foreign shores.

Monsters abound,
jungles sourround.

How lucky we are,
to live,
in interisting times."

She startles as a voice close to her speaks up, "Yeah, nice lass, but could I get a drink of water now or nah?"

"Ah," she mubles,and blushing continues, "sh-sure."

---

Would you be willing to lend your brother a hand?

Click to shrink...

Ah, yes, gladly. I'm not sure of time constrains, I'd thought to organize the construction of a stone-build safe house as well...

 

[Shard]

Norse Etiquette

A quick pictoral guide to the Norse, who have quite different viewpoints to us sometimes. Especially cultivating Norse! Follow this guide and you can avoid accidentally starting a blood feud with your fellow Norsemen is a spar or like!



(This shitpost was brought to you by Spar-related inspiration)

 

[Shard]

Mission Report: Northern Marshes Scouted
Gunnar returns from his expedition carrying the body of a horse sized toad over his back, a number of spines jutting from its skin. He tells the tale of how he encountered a great number of the beasts in a marsh to the north, capable of releasing clouds of boiling steam which they then electrify with electricity released from the spines along their back, which then need to be recharged by the newly-dubbed Storm Toad's own movements before they can repeat that trick again.

He regales a number of fascinated onlookers with the story of how he hunted the creature he returned with, of how he learned that coating his knife with the Hell Moss discovered earlier would turn the blade into copper, and how he hoped to use that to trick the beast into electrifying itself. How the blade bounced off its thick hide, but the Hell Moss coating it caused a large portion of its back to dissolve into a puddle of sludge and melt away, before turning into yet more Hell Moss. And finally, how he battled the creature, evading its blasts of superheated steam and finally driving his seax through the roof of its mouth as it attempted to swallow him whole.

Once he is done, he delivers the body to the Seeress and Shapecrafter, hoping that the Seeress can use its blood for her rituals, while the Shapecrafter can use it for… whatever it is he does, though he does claim one of the spines for himself.

Click to shrink...

Gunnar Toad-Terror

Border boring[1] borean[2],
Burrow before big bluffs[3].

Strode toads from old abodes,
Storm and squirm yet be harmed.

Moss across, back to dross,[4]
Mouth steaming south all shunned, [5]

Rift through roof, twists aloof, [6]
Roars Gunnar Toad-Terror

[1] boring, as in 'bore a hole' - another way of saying 'marsh'
[2] north
[3] mountain
[4] Gunnar's hellmoss mossifying the toad's back.
[5] Gunnar dodging superheated steam blasts
[6] Gunnar stabbing toad's mouth

AN: Everything rhymes and alliterates! ...Except for the last line which is kind of.. hard..

 

[I.F. Ister]

Ice clings to the underside of trees as freezing rain falls from the sky. Steam rises from where it splashes against the ground, yet investigations reveal no hint of heat to be found. Occasionally, flakes of fresh ash drift in from the distance, tasting of ruin on the wind and settling against the earth.

In the main camp, gathered in the central lodge--which is only just barely large enough to contain the many Gotland survivors--is a meeting of great importance. The most valuable piece of property any Norseman can hope to own, what so many die trying to achieve, lays before them now in a collection of rune-carved tags. Day-in, day-out, debate rages as Norsemen argue their respective claims to any of the items up for grabs.

In Norse society, land-ownership is the key to climbing the social ladder. Having land--and good land if you can get it!--is a surefire way to earn the prestige necessary to show your face amongst the upper class. Now that the settlement is in a good, stable-ish state, voices clamor to be given what they believe is theirs by right of conquest.

Showing wisdom in the face of adversity, Grimfari Jarl calls for silence as he stands before the crowd, "Friends, family, Gutes all, it is clear that this is no simple matter. Too many of you worked hard to cleave stability from the jaws of chaos for me to simply hand out land that was never mine to give. Thus," he waves a hand at the dozens of tags laying upon the table, "I have decided to, in my full authority as Jarl, grant you all your choice of land. Please be civil, though if that is too much to ask, at least take it outside."

Spoiler: The Tags

Mountain	Mountain	Mountain	Jungle Hills	Jungle Hills	Jungle Hills	Mountain	Mountain	Mountain
Jungle Hills	Jungle Hills	Jungle Hills	Jungle Hills	Jungle Hills	Jungle Hills	Jungle Hills	Jungle Hills	Jungle Hills
Jungle Hills	Jungle Hills	Gunnar Tifferson	Cleared Land	Cleared Land	Cleared Land	Cleared Hills	Jungle Hills	Jungle Hills
Jungle	Cleared Land	Cleared Land	Cleared Land	Cleared Land	Cleared Land	Cleared Land	Cleared Land	Jungle
Jungle Beach	Cleared Beach	Cleared Beach	Cleared Beach	Main Camp	Cleared Beach	Cleared Beach	Cleared Beach	Jungle Beach

Hills (+Livestock, +Defense, -Travel, -Farming)
Land (+Farming, -Defense)
Beach (+Fishing, +Travel, -Farming, -Livestock)

The closer you are to the main camp, the safer you are. The main camp is not available, nor is Gunnar Tifferson's claim. Not unless you wanted to attempt to acquire it from him one way or another.

You may live together, though that comes at a cost of prestige unless you are of the same clan. Higher tier buildings earns you more prestige, which translates into ordstirr, which translates into PT.

"After that," the Jarl continues, "we have a pair of decisions to make. Three, in fact. First," he points a finger to the sky, "what do we call this land we've found? Second," he adds another finger, "what do we name this village of ours? Third," a final finger joins the now-trio of siblings, "what do we do with the nails? I recommend we build a central, defensible hall so that, no matter what happens, we have somewhere to retreat to should the worst come to pass. However, a wise Jarl listens to those he represents, so what say you, Gutes?"

He folds his hands behind his back as voices fill the air. Waiting for them to quiet down, he continues once more, "Finally, I suggest we wait till next Summer to attempt further contact with any native populations. Let us solidify our grasp on our land before we attempt to further expand our network of trade and contacts."

"Should you need guidance in what to do," he now points a finger at a wall covered in pieces of rune-marked bark, "I have spent some time collecting and prioritizing what tasks need doing."

Spoiler: The Jarlboard

Major Goals
-Find a source of iron, or at least something to make good nails of
-Find some manner of livestock or livestock-adjacent animal
-Sow fields and begin increasing our sparse supply of seeds

Minor Goals
-Pacify nearby threats
-Ascertain how large the jungle is
-Explore the mountains
--Following that, explore beyond the mountains
-Further explore the coastlines

0~0~0

The Settlement is currently in a Good state.

Group Resources: (1 Unit is enough for 1 Project)
40 Units of Basic Lumber (Tier 1 Material)
15 Units of Quality Lumber (Tier 2 Material)
40 Units of Vine Rope, Basic (Tier 1 Fastener)
1 Unit of Quality Nails (Tier 2 Fastener)
40 Units of High-Quality Cloth

Current Group Buildings (1 Material + 1 Fastener = a Building)
-Several Tier 1 Shacks

0~0~0

AN: Once (most of) the (cleared) land is doled out, I'll open the vote and allow you to take actions. You may still upgrade and spend PT at this point in time. You may also trade and do other Norse things amongst yourselves as well. Anybody can take from the group resources, but there is only so much to go around.

 

[Shard]

Is there a related discord to make clan planning easier?

Click to shrink...

You can use this Discord

Discord - Group Chat That’s All Fun & Games

Discord is great for playing games and chilling with friends, or even building a worldwide community. Customize your own space to talk, play, and hang out.

discord.gg

 

[Aabcehmu]

Here's the omake I mentioned on discord last night. A bit low-effort but hopefully better than nothing.

How To Go About A Spar

Agmundr had worked hard to improve his fighting skills since they'd first landed here in 'Haskistadr,' as Ivor dubbed it (and which no one had thought of a better name for, at least in Agmundr's opinion). But he had been too occupied with helping clear the land and build the hovels that currently shelter most of the village. He had no chance to prove himself, as the mouth-tree was easily handled by Harald, Torgarr, Gefjosa, and Njal, and the great lizard was run off by the ones on watch before anyone else could arrive on the scene.

Agmundr wasn't as hungry for glory as he once was, nor as hungry as some of the other young men in the village, but even aside from that, he wanted to know what he could do, to better understand what he still needs to improve and how to improve it. So, naturally, the evening after Grimfari Jarl's speech for the fall turning, he went around the camp and surrounding land, poking and prodding the other men to see who would be up for some sparring.

He found Ragnarr first, who seemed as much interested in just making friends and having fun as anything else. Then the two of them were joined by Gunnar, who seemed quite proud of his own developments (despite, in Agmundr's opinion, about half of them being thanks to Hrolfr's ministrations) and looking to prove his general superiority. That was about when the three of them started discussing what the format of the spar should be, and after agreeing on some simple ground rules (no shaming blows, no shields to not waste wood, no intentionally breaking weapons to not waste metal, minimal dress to not waste cloth), the issue of how to match up fighters comes up. Agmundr proposes a free-for-all, a round robin, and ponders a two-versus-one, prompting Gunnar to jump in and call dibs on being the one.

They get into a bit of an argument about whether that's reasonable or not, which they're still going at by the time they recruit Ivor, immediately after which Gunnar all-but dares them to have a three-versus-one, which naturally causes the argument to flare back up, only capped off when Agmundr finally makes a proper bet with Gunnar. If Gunnar wins against him, Ragnarr, and Ivor each individually, Agmundr will forgo his land on the beach and be Gunnar's farmhand for a year. If Gunnar loses a single one of those matches, he'll have to take at least one other fighter as back-up when he goes to fight the great lizard that approached the village at the end of summer (which he was, stunningly, planning to fight alone).

The discussion continues, shifting to deciding between a two-round tournament or a round robin, the evening turning to night as the group eventually pulls in Kare and Moli as they drift eastwards into Ragnarr's clan's territory to begin pounding out a stage for the spars. Seeing their group has grown to six, Agmundr proposes they instead try a team fight, three against three, but this is quickly shot down by the rest of the group. It takes a while longer before the six of them are finally able to settle on a round robin, but by that time, the women and children are calling for their husbands and fathers to come inside for the night, so the group breaks up for now.

With a mixture of satisfaction and irritation, Agmundr learns the next morning that Gunnar is now apparently planning on bringing basically his whole clan along for the hunt, and is accepting anyone who wants to come along on top of that, and is going to be trying to build a pit trap (an odd choice for a beast that controls gravity, in Agmundr's opinion, but still better than running off and challenging the thing to a duel). He'd have to talk to him about the bet, though.

 

[KreenWarrior]

Ivor Lindholm and Njall Ulfson come back to camp. Ivor bears the body of some strange small mushroom-headed creature with large eyes, and Njall bears a large club made of iron. Both have a look of exhaustion to them, and an expression on their eyes of wonderment, a mix of fear and exhilaration.

Ivor has never had an opportunity to earn distinction before, nor to proclaim his deeds. But that is not to say that it is not something he has practiced in his head before a time or ten. After taking a moment to catch their breaths (and letting people gather to hear), Ivor strides into a clearing, planting his feet and puffing out his chest. He calls out, "Fellow Norsemen! We come bearing strange tidings, the only kind that this land seems to offer! Njall and I travelled north and east, in hopes of finding plants or animals that might help improve our village! We found neither, but we found a great deal else!"

"Our first encounter was with, of all things, a giant-sized sauna, like the Finns make! It was constructed of stacked stones, twice the size of any Norseman's dwelling. Beside it was a giant club of solid iron," Ivor gestures at Njall's burden, which is as tall as a Norseman, "and a set of armor likewise sized." He pauses for dramatic effect. "We never saw the inhabitant of this sauna fully as we did not wish to gaze upon an unwilling maiden, giant or otherwise, but we conversed with her from afar. Her hand was sized to fit the building, and the skin on it was red. She somehow spoke our tongue, or perhaps had some magic that let us understand her, for we had no trouble conversing, though she used a few strange words. However, if she knew our people, it was by a different name - "Norsemen" was strange on her tongue. In the end, she settled on calling us 'muck-afavi'. She confirmed there was a settlement of muck-afavi far to the west, along the coast. She called her people the Onigar, and," Ivor said, "It seems they are a warrior folk as well, for when I told her of the valor of the Norse, she said they would no doubt test our mettle. She spoke of thunder in the distance, and indeed, it crashed while we spoke. She called herself Kesk-Kavar, and told us to shout for her should we wish to find her on the battlefield."

Ivor takes a sip from his flask, staring off into the middle distance for a moment, before resuming. "But that is not the worst of the tidings, for a Norsemen, to find a strong foe is only a promise of ordstirr and Valhalla! No, the true dread came next, for there is no glory in being ground out of existence without a chance to fight at all."

Taking a stick, Ivor drew figures of himself and Njall in the dirt, and then drew a picture of the cave. Primitive though it is, it shows the scale - the entrance is the size of four or five houses stacked on top of each other. "Njall and I found a cave, surrounded by broken trees and tossed aside boulders. We could hear the rumbling inside of a figure of Fenrisian scale. But we knew we could not return without confirming the nature of this threat, and so we moved closer." He sketches a figure there, as best he could. Four bear heads, resting on long, coiling, snakeline necks, attached to some body that the pair had never fully seen. "It is not boasting when I say this creature had the heads of many of the great lizards we saw around its lair, and the beak of one of the Void Eagles as well. Piles of bones littered its lair, and among them, glittered gold, gems and iron."

Ivor cleared his throat. "We knew this beast was beyond us, but we could not simply leave its lair unplundered, because the monster slept. Njall devised a plan using his Kunna to create a carpet of soft moss for us to move on, and we stole on forward. We were able to remove an iron club, like those used by the Onigatar, and retrieved it. We would have sought more, but when I moved to a second pile, I was confronted by a strange creature." He gestures to the corpse. "It was friendly in manner, but bore a brass bell - it was no doubt a guard. I drove a needle through its eye and slew it before it could react, and we retreated before we encountered any other strangeness."

"Or so we thought!" Ivor leaps back to attention. "Upon our return, we attempted to pass through a swamp, which appeared to be full of logs. But it was as strange as anything else in this land of danger. Warned by intuition, we used Kunna to probe the swamp, and found an area that was separated from contact with outside. Njall could not call plants from inside it, and when I threw fire inside the area, it froze. We thought we could simply avoid it, but we soon realized that the strange area must be a cloak for some creature or spirit, because it followed us. Seeing no way to slow an area of stopped time, we retreated so that we could bring our tidings back to those who needed to hear them."

 

[Oshha]

Musings of Sigmund​

Sigmund Sigurdsson is at a loss. Things had looked promising, his future set in stone. He apprenticed under his father, learning to be a smith that would forge iron and other metals into weapons, tools and other items for people to use. He had his darling Torunn as his beloved wife and Sigurd, named for Sigmund's father, would be the first of their many children together.

Then in a blink of an eye, he lost almost everything. His parents are gone, Gotland destroyed and everything in his future has been overturned. He has his sweet Torunn, his wonderful son and some of his clan, but his home, his parents, his future? They are all gone, destroyed in what others are calling a battle between the Blackhand and the Jomsvikings. He doesn't know what they were fighting over, his Gotlander blood compels him to side with the ruler of his home in the absence of knowledge. He hopes that the Blackhand gave the Jomsvikings a good fight for destroying Gotland, his home, for such a thing is easily beyond Sigmund himself.

Sigmund believes he is lucky, but he doesn't know if that luck is good or bad. He had the ill fortune to see his home destroyed, but he had the good fortune to survive it. He had the ill fortune for him and his family be blown off-course, but the good fortune to survive as the ship he was on along with five others successfully washed ashore.

Sigmund knows has good luck in two ways. The first is that he has been blessed to meet with Torunn and win her heart, something he is always thankful for. The second is that his paternal great-grandfather is Tyr himself and while many are able to claim divine ancestry, Sigmund doesn't know of any who can claim it as closely as he can. Now if only he knew what it meant to be the great-grandson of a god.

Tyr wields a sword just as Odin wields a spear and Thor wields a hammer and he does so one-handedly because he sacrificed his right hand to ensure that Fenrir was bound. Perhaps there is something in that for someone of his blood like Sigmund? Torunn would have his head if he decided to lop off his right hand and truth be told, Sigmund isn't sure he is willing to make such a sacrifice yet. But wielding a sword with just one hand? Sigmund is confident he can work with that.

He has to work with something after all. Sigmund might have his bloodline, but he has no kunna or notable skills. Ragnarr is skilled with both his spear and tongue, using his emotion kunna to paralyse his foes in battle. Kare can fly and toss lightning whilst slaying his foes from afar with his archery. Moli blinds his foes with his light kunna before stabbing them to death with his glass kunna. His cousins can do all that while Sigmund has to rely on the basics and hope that the gods and the Norns are smiling upon him.

"Are you brooding again?" comes the sweet voice of his darling wife, startling Sigmund out of his thoughts.

"I was not brooding," protests Sigmund as Torunn comes up to him and leans against his side.

"You certainly looked like you were," Torunn teases him while Sigmund begins to stroke her golden locks, which go perfectly with her blue eyes and fair skin.

If Sigmund is a son of ash, his beloved Torunn is a daughter of elm. Even more so than Sigmund as while he is struggling to find his course in life, Torunn is always settling into being a mother and housewife.

"If you weren't brooding, what were you doing, Sigmund?" asks Torunn as she gives him a playing poke in the side.

"Reflecting on the past and future," answers Sigmund, "The past is gone and with it my future. So I must find a new one because I am still alive and so is my beautiful wife and my wonderful son."

"Oh you charmer," says Torunn as she snuggles in closer to him, "And what is your future to be?"

"I don't know," admits Sigmund, "I can't be a smith, there isn't anyone here to teach me. I could be a warrior. I am a great-grandson of Tyr after all. To be a valorous warrior is in my blood after all, more so than most Norsemen. When you showed up, I was thinking of learning to wield the sword one-handed on its own."

"Forgive me, husband, but that sounds foolish?" replies Torunn and Sigmund can spot the small frown on her face out of the corner of his eye, "I am no warrior, but why only one hand? Surely it would be better to make use of both hands."

"Tyr sacrificed his right hand to see Fenrir bound," explains Sigmund, "You don't need to worry about me going that far, but I believe there may be some value in copying some aspects of my great-grandfather's fighting style. I need something more than just my blood."

"Fretting about your lack of kunna again?" tutters Torunn.

"All of my cousins have kunna," grumbles Sigmund, but his heart isn't in it, not when he has Torunn at his side, "Kare has his lightning kunna, Ragnarr has his emotion kunna, Moli has his light and glass kunna, Harald has his soil kunna and Steinarr has his stone kunna. Even you have a shapeshifting kunna when I don't have any."

"You'll get one in time," his wife reassures him, "But enough of that. What do you want out of the future, my darling husband?"

"A farm," says Sigmund reflectively because what Norseman doesn't want a farm of their own to call home, "Glory and adventure."

"A farm would be nice," agrees Torunn, "I would like a farm to call our own. We should claim some good land before it is all gone."

"I think it already is," says Sigmund as he thinks about it, "There might be some land remaining north of our clan's land. Untamed jungle and hilly to the boot, but still unclaimed and neighbouring our clan."

"Hills are good for livestock but bad for crops," muses Torunn.

"Don't ask me that," replies Sigmund, "I always intended to be a smith not a farmer."

"I would have preferred some flat land for corps, but a farm is better than no farm," says Torunn, "Livestock is good prestige too if we could get some horses. Do they have horses here?"

"I have no idea?" admits Sigmund, "I could ask one of my cousins? Most of them seem to have a better grip on what is going on."

"That seems like a good idea," says Torunn, "Now, Sigmund, there is another problem that the village is facing that we can help with."

"Oh?" inquires Sigmund as he tries to work out what his wife might be referring to.

"There aren't many of us in this new home of ours," says Torunn with a lustful grin on her face as she looks up at Sigmund, "How about when you join me in bed tonight we get to work on helping increase our numbers?"