I.F. Ister
Fortifying The Thread
- Pronouns
- He/They
You'll only be able to make them in winter, is the problem. And you are dead right now, so no opportunity to make them till next winter
NorseQuest: Collective Edition (Group-Based Xianxia Settlement-Builder)
- Thread starter I.F. Ister
- Start date
- Original
Lots of Omakes. o.o; Seems like those not really active doing so or not part of groups will be on the slow ascent concerning the EXP huh? Wonder how Gudrun will go with such. 
I'll need time to read everything since it seems interesting...
I'll need time to read everything since it seems interesting...
[X] Fernweh Enginweiss Actions: Turn 1 Winter:
-[X] Major Action: Explore the jungle hills of my claim. Search for interesting plants for the shapecrafter using Flower Kunna and foraging skills.
-[X] Passive Actions
--[X] See if this land has nisse.
--[X] Try to climb the highest hill around to see the layout of these lands.
-[X] Major Action: Explore the jungle hills of my claim. Search for interesting plants for the shapecrafter using Flower Kunna and foraging skills.
-[X] Passive Actions
--[X] See if this land has nisse.
--[X] Try to climb the highest hill around to see the layout of these lands.
Gunnar's thoughts: of Terror and Toads (Guest99)
Gunnar's thoughts: of Terror and Toads
Slyly lying in wait,
A bed of bugs,
The only bait-
No, that was terrible, Gunnar mused to himself in his head, once more watching for a Storm Toad to separate from the pack. If there was one thing he did not appreciate about his culture, it was all the poetry. You couldn't just win a big fight, no, you had to come up with some flowery speech or other to let everyone else know about the big fight you just won, and get the skalds to go around telling people all about that big fight you just won. It all seemed to Gunnar to be just a big, over complicated mess, at stark odds with what he thought of the rest of his culture.
He appreciated how simple most things were, as a Norseman. Look after your home and family, go out, pick a fight, win, get stronger, rinse and repeat, the bigger the fight, and the worse your odds, the better. He honestly could not understand all those who acted all put upon, like he was some great fool they had to suffer simply because he wanted to do what came naturally, but no, these complicated folk with their complicated thoughts insisted he do things for the good of the community and think about the future. As if he was a careless fool charging off to get himself killed. Idiots. What they failed to understand was that, for all their complex thoughts and plans and worries, simple works. Just stick with simple, and solutions to your problems will follow. Going out to earn Ordstirr practically necessitated side benefits, as his slaying of the Storm Toad showed. He went in search of glory, he found glory, and glory also happened to be made of lots of meat with some particularly tender sections under the spines, where lightning gathered. Simple.
He could already see signs of the other folk overcomplicating things, as was their way, in their attempts to recruit the swordswoman, Eirny. They came to her promising empty things, speaking of the good of the community, big, complicated things like that, when it should've been clear that she was a warrior, plain and simple. Slip of a girl she might be at first sight, she certainly carries herself like someone who knows how to use that sword of hers, so he took the simple option, and offered her a fight, and now he had a Huskarl while everyone else was left to their complicated thoughts. Showed them.
Honestly, he was a goatherd, he should not be the only one seeking Ordstirr with as much fervour as he was, by Odin's beard, no one else had even considered hunting down that colossal lizard until he started putting together a team, and the thing was practically a walking pile of Ordstirr! But no, he was the odd one, despite the fact he managed just fine by himself before, and everyone expected him to get his entire hunting party killed. Well, he'd enjoy strutting about wearing a lizard skin hauberk, and with the size of this thing, eating its heart would definitely be worth the struggle-
A Storm Toad began to wander off, becoming isolated as it searched for more insects and hedgehogs to consume. Gunnar froze, his bloodline stilling his body as he watched, before quickly escaping from the tree branch he was perched upon to follow. Meat, it seemed, was on the menu tonight.
Slyly lying in wait,
A bed of bugs,
The only bait-
No, that was terrible, Gunnar mused to himself in his head, once more watching for a Storm Toad to separate from the pack. If there was one thing he did not appreciate about his culture, it was all the poetry. You couldn't just win a big fight, no, you had to come up with some flowery speech or other to let everyone else know about the big fight you just won, and get the skalds to go around telling people all about that big fight you just won. It all seemed to Gunnar to be just a big, over complicated mess, at stark odds with what he thought of the rest of his culture.
He appreciated how simple most things were, as a Norseman. Look after your home and family, go out, pick a fight, win, get stronger, rinse and repeat, the bigger the fight, and the worse your odds, the better. He honestly could not understand all those who acted all put upon, like he was some great fool they had to suffer simply because he wanted to do what came naturally, but no, these complicated folk with their complicated thoughts insisted he do things for the good of the community and think about the future. As if he was a careless fool charging off to get himself killed. Idiots. What they failed to understand was that, for all their complex thoughts and plans and worries, simple works. Just stick with simple, and solutions to your problems will follow. Going out to earn Ordstirr practically necessitated side benefits, as his slaying of the Storm Toad showed. He went in search of glory, he found glory, and glory also happened to be made of lots of meat with some particularly tender sections under the spines, where lightning gathered. Simple.
He could already see signs of the other folk overcomplicating things, as was their way, in their attempts to recruit the swordswoman, Eirny. They came to her promising empty things, speaking of the good of the community, big, complicated things like that, when it should've been clear that she was a warrior, plain and simple. Slip of a girl she might be at first sight, she certainly carries herself like someone who knows how to use that sword of hers, so he took the simple option, and offered her a fight, and now he had a Huskarl while everyone else was left to their complicated thoughts. Showed them.
Honestly, he was a goatherd, he should not be the only one seeking Ordstirr with as much fervour as he was, by Odin's beard, no one else had even considered hunting down that colossal lizard until he started putting together a team, and the thing was practically a walking pile of Ordstirr! But no, he was the odd one, despite the fact he managed just fine by himself before, and everyone expected him to get his entire hunting party killed. Well, he'd enjoy strutting about wearing a lizard skin hauberk, and with the size of this thing, eating its heart would definitely be worth the struggle-
A Storm Toad began to wander off, becoming isolated as it searched for more insects and hedgehogs to consume. Gunnar froze, his bloodline stilling his body as he watched, before quickly escaping from the tree branch he was perched upon to follow. Meat, it seemed, was on the menu tonight.
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Lots of Omakes. o.o; Seems like those not really active doing so or not part of groups will be on the slow ascent concerning the EXP huh? Wonder how Gudrun will go with such.
I'll need time to read everything since it seems interesting...
The good news is, just writing up what you did during your own actions can be an 'omake'. But yeah, going after big gribblies is generally gonna earn more, and is easier with more people. IF used to always joke in original NQ that the Norse Meta was 'bring more friends than the other guy'.
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Lots of Omakes. o.o; Seems like those not really active doing so or not part of groups will be on the slow ascent concerning the EXP huh? Wonder how Gudrun will go with such.
I'll need time to read everything since it seems interesting...
Gudrun is generally welcome to join bigger expeditions, I think. Ragnarr would certainly be happy to have her on any expeditions he's leading barring specific weirdness.
And going off to dangerous places alone is also an option, of course. That's very risky, but also potentially very lucrative, in terms of Ordstirr. Of the people who wandered off alone in summer, most died (I want to say 3/4) but the one who survived got the best rewards anyone has gotten for any single thing thus far.
Eirny Khairsdotter - Training (KittyEmpress)
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Eirny Khairsdotter - Training
In a small, cleared section of the camp, the young woman began to twirl, her blade held in hand as she did. As she spun, she felt her legs fight to move differently. And yet she continued to spin. She felt her body sicken as the world spun around her. And yet she continued to spin. She felt suffering as her arm fought with the weight of the sword, extended out so far. And yet she continued to spin. Her breath quickened as she felt the exertion of repetitive movement in such speed. And yet she continued to spin.
In time, she felt none of these things. The suffering coalesced into something more. Her legs moved not under her own guidance, but through the pattern she had danced. Her eyes did not track the outside world, but instead the blur was ignored. Her arm carried itself through the weight of the force, carrying the spinning blade without conscious use of muscle. And her breathing grew still and soft as her mind stopped grasping for breaths.
The sufi danced to embrace their God, to empty themselves to the world, to purify themselves of thought. And so Eirny danced, a dance of one with blade in hand. A dance that left the distant girl without the faculties to think, but instead only with the trust in what she felt. She moved how her body felt was optimal, she swung how gravity and mass swung her arm, the world itself her guidance, her blade itself her teacher.
As she felt the emptiness of self, her body memorized the feeling. The feeling of trust in the unknowable, in what her Father would call his peoples God. He would have told her in these moments to trust in his God's direction, that all things fall into place in their moments. That he would guide her to the point of perfection, where all things moved as Intendended.
Eirny had never felt the presence of God, not how her father did. Instead she embraced the feeling of motion carried by motion, never stopping, never stilling, feeding, growing upon itself in power, in speed. She did not shut her eyes; for she had no need to do so. She no longer directed herself any more than an ant directed which way a river flowed. It was by letting go of her need to control the energy that she felt the energy best.
As the dance grew longer, it's cadence grew faster. In one breath she spun once. In two breaths she spun twice. Her body twisting, moving it's weight to a natural optimization as it corrected itself for the air resistance, for the uneven ground, for even the slight off-ness of weight from the woman's recent meal. And by the end as she spun to a final stop she was left - ground carved into by blade, creating a perfectly mirrored concentric pattern with a balance that would have been impossible for her to make with intention.
As the switch in her brain flipped back, as she took back control for her actions in full, she could feel every ache of her body, she could feel the nausea flowing through her from the force of the spins, and she could feel the fire in her lungs from the long period of utterly heedless movement. But she forced herself to rise, from the center of the pattern she had carved into the earth itself. Sweat dripping down her body as she rose to face the sun.
She did not know where her Father's soul may lie, but in this act of surrender to the force he loved as greatly as his own wife, she knew a part lay within her.
---
To an outside observer, to a Norse perspective, there was none of the usual energy in this surrender. There was no ferocity, no will to destroy, to kill. It was an oddly silent dance, as even blade striking earth did so in the softest manners, cutting through the dirt and ground whilst barely touching it. There were no screams. There was no passion. Eirny was always odd, distant, but in those moments of witnessing her, she seemed to cease as a person.
Her entire body directed by the blade in the foreign movements.
In a small, cleared section of the camp, the young woman began to twirl, her blade held in hand as she did. As she spun, she felt her legs fight to move differently. And yet she continued to spin. She felt her body sicken as the world spun around her. And yet she continued to spin. She felt suffering as her arm fought with the weight of the sword, extended out so far. And yet she continued to spin. Her breath quickened as she felt the exertion of repetitive movement in such speed. And yet she continued to spin.
In time, she felt none of these things. The suffering coalesced into something more. Her legs moved not under her own guidance, but through the pattern she had danced. Her eyes did not track the outside world, but instead the blur was ignored. Her arm carried itself through the weight of the force, carrying the spinning blade without conscious use of muscle. And her breathing grew still and soft as her mind stopped grasping for breaths.
The sufi danced to embrace their God, to empty themselves to the world, to purify themselves of thought. And so Eirny danced, a dance of one with blade in hand. A dance that left the distant girl without the faculties to think, but instead only with the trust in what she felt. She moved how her body felt was optimal, she swung how gravity and mass swung her arm, the world itself her guidance, her blade itself her teacher.
As she felt the emptiness of self, her body memorized the feeling. The feeling of trust in the unknowable, in what her Father would call his peoples God. He would have told her in these moments to trust in his God's direction, that all things fall into place in their moments. That he would guide her to the point of perfection, where all things moved as Intendended.
Eirny had never felt the presence of God, not how her father did. Instead she embraced the feeling of motion carried by motion, never stopping, never stilling, feeding, growing upon itself in power, in speed. She did not shut her eyes; for she had no need to do so. She no longer directed herself any more than an ant directed which way a river flowed. It was by letting go of her need to control the energy that she felt the energy best.
As the dance grew longer, it's cadence grew faster. In one breath she spun once. In two breaths she spun twice. Her body twisting, moving it's weight to a natural optimization as it corrected itself for the air resistance, for the uneven ground, for even the slight off-ness of weight from the woman's recent meal. And by the end as she spun to a final stop she was left - ground carved into by blade, creating a perfectly mirrored concentric pattern with a balance that would have been impossible for her to make with intention.
As the switch in her brain flipped back, as she took back control for her actions in full, she could feel every ache of her body, she could feel the nausea flowing through her from the force of the spins, and she could feel the fire in her lungs from the long period of utterly heedless movement. But she forced herself to rise, from the center of the pattern she had carved into the earth itself. Sweat dripping down her body as she rose to face the sun.
She did not know where her Father's soul may lie, but in this act of surrender to the force he loved as greatly as his own wife, she knew a part lay within her.
---
To an outside observer, to a Norse perspective, there was none of the usual energy in this surrender. There was no ferocity, no will to destroy, to kill. It was an oddly silent dance, as even blade striking earth did so in the softest manners, cutting through the dirt and ground whilst barely touching it. There were no screams. There was no passion. Eirny was always odd, distant, but in those moments of witnessing her, she seemed to cease as a person.
Her entire body directed by the blade in the foreign movements.
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So those who died and respawn doesn't gain anything I'm assuming? If so, huh, noted and unfortunate. Looks like it'll be hardcore for sometime. And I'm not really into interacting much with others which seems a bit of a requirement here so I guess we'll see how this go.
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- He/Him
So those who died and respawn doesn't gain anything I'm assuming? If so, huh, noted and unfortunate. Looks like it'll be hardcore for sometime. And I'm not really into interacting much with others which seems a bit of a requirement here so I guess we'll see how this go.
That's correct, though that number is probably worse than it will be going forward if you're careful. Generally speaking, you don't gain Ordstirr for losing (which death certainly is), there are exceptions to that, but they're rare.
Doing things that are valuable to the community and obviously so is also a good way to get Ordstirr. Steinarr got 3 for making a runestone, for instance.
I'll probably just do the NPC Requests along with the Jarlboard Requests and Settlement Issues in no particular order and just trust RNG to pull through. Probably will be seeing what EXP Gudrun will get into massing Level 1 PTs until she's consistently somehow able to survive the seasons.
How does the Fated Day work? Is it just lose all progress and make a.new character?
And I suppose it'll be more hardcore if one doesn't have a plot of land somehow too?
@DeadmanwalkingXI Oh, could I claim the jungle beach to the east.
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Honestly having a mass of level 1 skills doesn't seem like a bad system in this. They're cheap and easy and if you build synergies into them, I don't think they're in any way worse than a level two.
Like I'm pretty sure glima 1 + giants blood + shapecrafter enhanced musculature would wrestle similarly well or better as glima 2, just with more fluff focus on how it's from their insane strength.
- Location
- Southampton, Great Britain
- Pronouns
- He/Him
I'm thinking of going for a shield kunna and sword skill with Sigmund's Ordstirr. Floating spectral shields from a shield kunna would hopefully help off-set the obvious disadvantage of a one-handed Tyr-based fighting style and it would also allow Sigmund to protect other members of whatever party he is with, which I feel fits into Tyr's theme of protection. As for sword skill, I don't want to leap right away into a martial style for SIgmund. I would rather build up his mundane/basic skill before going into something more advanced like a martial style.
Kare's Contemplations (alexthealright)
- Location
- Many Places
Kare's Contemplations.
Kare stood atop the highest point of his land, a barrier of blue Ordstirr kept the relentless rain from drenching him in the freezing water even as it pounded down around him and somehow pooled into little boiling rivers which bubbled as they flowed off the hill.
He'd really never thought he'd ever own his own land. It was just common sense, he wasn't the eldest of his siblings, he wasn't even one of the first five, well out of the running to inherit even such an untamed place as this, in fact he'd been planning to swear an oath of service to the King before…
Before the storm, before they'd arrived here.
Now he was master of his own land, even if the wildlife could be dangerous, even if That Damned Bird had eaten him alive, he would be able to build that farm he'd wanted when he was younger, perhaps settle down once things became less hectic.
And none of it mattered anymore, honestly he wasn't quite sure what did.
After all, Ama hadn't made onto the boats in time.
Shaking his head to dispel the memories he hopped into the air, falling straight ahead and then dropped downwards, narrowing avoiding a puddle of boiling water as he hit the ground next to his little shack.
He wasn't afraid to admit that he'd gotten a little rusty, the first night he'd slept inside he realized he'd missed a small gap in the roof directly above him and had to move his bed so that he could get some sleep that night.
Of course he'd fixed that problem the following morning and now owned a respectable if small home to call his own, complete with a pair of targets on the far wall, those skills had to be kept sharp, especially considering what the seer had said.
He was bound by fate to The Bird and the next time they met, one of them would not walk away.
Naturally, knowing that your fated day might come so soon had a way of focusing one's priorities.
"May any who taste my bite be- No that's terrible, wouldn't stop it from disappearing and then reappearing again." He'd never really appreciated just how hard rune craft could be sometimes, sure it was easy once you'd come up with the right spelling, but sometimes it could be a real pain to make something new, especially when you didn't have precedent to fall back on.
"May those struck by me be unable to call forth the mist?" He shook his head, too vague, he started over and tried again.
"May the bird with a beak coated in frost be halted when it tastes my sting." He paused, "Huh, that might work."
All that was left after that was finding someone who could carve that onto a few arrow heads.
Kare stood atop the highest point of his land, a barrier of blue Ordstirr kept the relentless rain from drenching him in the freezing water even as it pounded down around him and somehow pooled into little boiling rivers which bubbled as they flowed off the hill.
He'd really never thought he'd ever own his own land. It was just common sense, he wasn't the eldest of his siblings, he wasn't even one of the first five, well out of the running to inherit even such an untamed place as this, in fact he'd been planning to swear an oath of service to the King before…
Before the storm, before they'd arrived here.
Now he was master of his own land, even if the wildlife could be dangerous, even if That Damned Bird had eaten him alive, he would be able to build that farm he'd wanted when he was younger, perhaps settle down once things became less hectic.
And none of it mattered anymore, honestly he wasn't quite sure what did.
After all, Ama hadn't made onto the boats in time.
Shaking his head to dispel the memories he hopped into the air, falling straight ahead and then dropped downwards, narrowing avoiding a puddle of boiling water as he hit the ground next to his little shack.
He wasn't afraid to admit that he'd gotten a little rusty, the first night he'd slept inside he realized he'd missed a small gap in the roof directly above him and had to move his bed so that he could get some sleep that night.
Of course he'd fixed that problem the following morning and now owned a respectable if small home to call his own, complete with a pair of targets on the far wall, those skills had to be kept sharp, especially considering what the seer had said.
He was bound by fate to The Bird and the next time they met, one of them would not walk away.
Naturally, knowing that your fated day might come so soon had a way of focusing one's priorities.
"May any who taste my bite be- No that's terrible, wouldn't stop it from disappearing and then reappearing again." He'd never really appreciated just how hard rune craft could be sometimes, sure it was easy once you'd come up with the right spelling, but sometimes it could be a real pain to make something new, especially when you didn't have precedent to fall back on.
"May those struck by me be unable to call forth the mist?" He shook his head, too vague, he started over and tried again.
"May the bird with a beak coated in frost be halted when it tastes my sting." He paused, "Huh, that might work."
All that was left after that was finding someone who could carve that onto a few arrow heads.
I.F. Ister
Fortifying The Thread
- Pronouns
- He/They
Good work, +3 Ordstirr
+3 Ordstirr to you
And +3 to you as well
0~0~0
I'm planning on getting through the hunt for Evil Joe, Rikard's expedition, and the fishing extravaganza today. Who are all involved in those?
- Location
- Southampton, Great Britain
- Pronouns
- He/Him
I'm involved in Rikard's hunt with Sigmund Sigurdsson.
Liv is helping with the pit trap, while the actual hunters are Gunnar, Eirny, Njall Redaxe, and Harald Logarson
Edit for clarity: this is the hunt for Evil Joe
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- Location
- Eastern Seaboard
If we're referring to the T-Rex/Lizard-- I think I changed my active action to also join in the hunt?
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Done.
Added.
I'm part of Rikard's expedition.
You did.
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- Location
- Space between realms
- Pronouns
- He
I'm helping out in the fishing.
I.F. Ister
Fortifying The Thread
- Pronouns
- He/They
Was that a passive or a major action?
- Pronouns
- He/Him
It's listed as passive.
I.F. Ister
Fortifying The Thread
- Pronouns
- He/They
In that case, you cannot join in on the fishing extravaganza @weeblypanda
Just going to note these three questions have largely been unaddressed by the thread. I think that, given we have had prophetic dreams of a crab swarm, and that we found out that there are Oni who will attack at some point, the central defensible hall sounds great. As to the name, Ivor has suggested "Haskistadr," translating as "Danger-place". That could technically be our village's name too, if a bit bragadocious. Something like "New Gotland" would also be a very traditional way of naming our village, or naming it after our Jarl. Or even naming it after Blackhand, in his memory.